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or  liluatratad  impraaalon. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  -^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  aymbol  y  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appiias. 

ISAaps,  plataa,  charta.  ate.,  may  b-*  fllmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  Includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  fiimad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  comar,  loft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  ao  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illustrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  imagaa  suivantaa  ont  4t4  raproduitas  avac  la 
plua  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  at  mn 
conformity  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
fllmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  •n 
paplar  aat  Imprimia  sont  filmAs  sn  common  ysnt 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  •n  tarmlnant  soit  par  la 
darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraaalon  ou  d'iliuatration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  eaa.  Toua  laa  autras  axamplairaa 
originaux  sont  filmis  an  commandant  par  la 
pramlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraaalon  ou  d'lllustratlon  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolaa  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darniAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha,  salon  la 
caa:  la  symbols  -^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
aymbols  ▼  aignifia  "FIN". 

I.aa  cartaa,  pianchas,  tablaaux,  ate,  pauvant  itra 
fiimte  A  daa  taux  da  rMuction  diffArants. 
Loraqua  la  documant  ast  trop  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clich4,  ii  ast  film*  A  partir 
da  I'angla  sup4riaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  h  droita, 
at  da  haut  an  baa,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagas  nAcaasaira.  Las  diagrammaa  suivants 
lllustrant  la  mAthoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

I    ^     i 

5 

6 

■  \ 


I 

J       ■■:,"■  ■ 

- 

_..  ; 

• 

r            ' 

* 

V 

• 

" '   K  • 

* 

> 

THE 


SIl/VER  QUEEN 


A  KOMANCI:  OF  THE 


•      \ 


Early  Days  of  Creede  Camp 


BY 


CY  WARMAN  AND  FITZ  MAC 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  z^llA  NEILL. 


DHNVKR 
Thk  Gkeat  Dividi:  Puiu.ishinc;  Company 

i8q4 


Copyrighted  i894,  by  Cy  Warman, 
Denver,  Colorado. 


\ 


^1 


THE  SILVER  QUEEN. 
I. 

Denver,  March  15,  1892. 
My   Dear   Mr.    Warman  :^I    notice 
by    the    papers    that    you    are     getting 
ready  to  start  a  daily  in  Creede.     Your 
courage   is  worthy   of    all   astonishment. 
Don't    you    know    the     gamblers    there 
will  shoot    you   full   of   holes,  and   per- 
haps spoil   the  only  suit   youVe  got   fit 
to     be    buried     in,   before    your     paper 
reaches  the   tenth    number  ?       Whatever 
you  do,  wear  your  old  clothes  and  keep 
your   Sunday  suit   nice  for    emergencies. 
The  boys  will  all  chip  in  and  give  you 
a  big  funeral,  but  we  have  n't  any  of  us 
got  a  spare  coat  fit   to  bury  you  in  ;  so 
take    care    of    your    Prince  Albert    and 
wear  your  corduroys  till   the  (question  is 
settled    one    way    or    the    other,  for    if 


4 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


anything  should  happen,  it  would  mor- 
tify the  boys  to  have  to  ))ury  in  his 
shirt-sleeves  the  only  poet  Colorado  has 
produced. 


Well,  you  are  in  for  it,  I  suppose, 
and  nothing  wiU  stop  you,  and  being 
in,  there  is  nothing  for  it  now  but  to 
"bear  thyself  so  thine  enemy  may  be- 
ware   thee,''    or    in    other    words,    heel 


THE  SlfA'Kli    (JIKKX. 


yourself  and  face  the*  music  like  a  man. 
Whatever  else  you  do,  don't  show  the 
white  feather,  for  the  honor  of  tln' 
press  is  in  your  keeping,  and  if  you 
will  immolate  yourself,  we  expect  you 
to  die  game  and  not  with  a  ))ullet  in 
your  back.  Don't  worry  one  minute 
about  the  obituary  notices.  That  will 
be  all  right.  The 
boys  will  all  see 
you  through  in 
good  shape  and 
the  papers  here 
will  all  turn  rules 
and  celebrate 
your  virtues  in 
such  halting  me- 
ter    as     can     be 


mustered. 

But,  seriously, 
what  evil  genius  tempted  you  into  the 
project  of  a  daily  in  Creede,  and  whose 
money  are   you    Idowing   in  ? 


>\ 


6 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


If  your  ambition  is  to  establish  a 
reputation  for  courage — going  into  such 
a  lair  of  hobos,  gamblers  and  all-round 
toughs — most  people  will  think  it  ab- 
surdly supei-fluous  in  a  man — a  western 
man  at  least — who  makes  no  conceal- 
ment of  the  fact,  in  this  fin  de  siecle 
era,  that  he  perpetrates  poetry  and  is 
willing  to  make  his  living  by  it — if 
he  can. 

I  have  no  wish  to  ditjcourage  you, 
Cy,  in  your  present  heroic  enterprise ; 
but  I  think,  myself,  it-  is  wholly  un- 
necessary as  an  evidence  of  pluck, 
after  all  the  poetry  you  have  perpe- 
trated. Everybody  knows  that  a  poet 
— a  western  poet,  especially — takes  his 
life  in  his  hands  whenever  he  ap- 
proaches a  publisher,  as  recklessly  as 
the  man  who  runs  sheep  onto  a  cow 
range.  Of  course,  no  western  man 
would  feel  any  compunction  in  killing  a 


// 


THE   SILVEH    QUEEN. 


■  i. 


poet,  considering  that  whatever  atten- 
tion they  command  in  the  East  makes 
against  our  reputation  out  here  for 
practical  horse-sense  and  energy,  and 
tends  to  make  the  underwriters  and 
money-lenders  suspicious  and  raise  the 
rates  of    interest  and  insurance. 

I  would  n't  hurt  your  feelings  for  the 
world,  for  I  confess  I  like  your  poetry 
myself,  but  I  chink  you  owe  the  sin- 
gular immunity  you  have  eijoyed  in 
Denver  above  other  poets  who  have 
bit  the  dust  or  emigrated  eastward,  to 
the  openly-expressed  admiration  and 
affection  of  Myron  Reed  and  Jim  Bel- 
ford  and  a  few  other  reckless  cranks 
who  have  intrenched  themselves  against 
'*the  practical  horse-sense"  which  is 
the  pride  of  our  people.  As,  instance : 
I  happened  into  that  gun-store  in  the 
Tabor  Block  yesterday  to  provide  my- 
self   with  a    jointed   fishing-rod    against 


v^ 


8 


THE   SILVKU    QVKKS. 


^L, 


'•^PPt*,:    .% 


wlmt  time  I  should  come  down  to 
your  funeral — for  they  tell  me  the  Up- 
l)er  Rio  (jrraiide  swarms  with  trout,  and 
I  thought  I  might  like  to  cast  a  fly, 
even  so  early,  after  see- 
ing you  planted,  and  be- 
ing shown  the  spot  where 
you  fell.  For  I  fancy 
some  of  those  toujjhs 
whose  hearts  your  in- 
spired verses  had  touched, 
commiserating  my  tears, 
would  come  to  me  and  take  me  gently 
by  the  hand  and  lead  me  down  to  the  cor- 
oner's office  to  show  me  the  hole  in  the 
breast  of  your  coat — for  I  never  have  done 
you  the  wrong  to  im{\gine  the  hole  any- 
where hut  in  the  breast  where  the  re- 
morseless bullet  tore  its  way  to  your 
brave  heart.  And  then  the  tender- 
hearted tough,  wiping  his  eyes  with  his 
sleeve^   should   draw  me  away  and   lead 


-y>.- 


\ 


THK    aiLVKIi    Ql'KKN. 


0 


me  Ui»  the  strct't  "  to  hco  u  iwrv  it  hap- 
pened," and  tlmt  he  sIhuiUI  hall  at  « 
certain  spot  in  front  of  a  great  flourish- 
ing saloon  and  ganihling  liall,  where  I 
slioukl  catch  a  glinips(<  through  the 
windows,  of  })attered  and  frowzy  girls 
in  dirty,  trailing  calico  "tea-gowns" 
and  thin  slippers,  drinking  at  the  Ijar 
with  the  clieaper  class  of  the  ganiblera 
or  with  ]»efuddled  miners  they  were 
preparing  to  roh,  and  he  should  say : 
"Twas  right  here — right  where  Tni 
standin' — and  poor  Cy,  h(i  wuz  goiir 
along  and  he  avuz  n't  sayin'  nothin'  to 
nobody,  'u'  I  was  stand  in'  right  across 
the  street  tliere,  in  the  door  of  Minnie 
Monroe's  place,  an'  Min  she  wuz  leanin' 
over  my  shoulder  and  we  wuz  both 
lookin'  right  across  at  the  saloon  where 
Soapy  Smith  wuz  standin'  in  the  door, 
readin'  a  newspaper  out  loud  to  Bob 
Ford  an'  a   lot  o'   them    low-down   girls 


10 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


i 
I 


that  hangs  around  tliere  after   breakfast 
till    they   strike    a   treat ;    au'    at  every 
^vord   Soaj>y    he   was  rippin'    out   oaths 
an'  shakin'   his    fist,   an'  Min.    she   says 
to  me  :     'Bill,    there's  a  row  on,  les'  go 
over    and   see   what's    up.'     'N'   jest    at 
that    minute    along    comes     2)oor    Cy — 
mindin'    his    own     business     'n'     sayin' 
nothin'  to  nobody— an'   that's   what    I'll 
swear  to  'foi'e  the  grand  jury,  mister,  if 
I'm  called,  an'  Min,  she'll   swear  to  the 
same  thing.      Nothin'  would  n't  a'  hap- 
pened, fur  evei'ybody's  l)ack  wuz  ttirned, 
only  l(ir  one   o'  them  low- 
down     trollops    stuck     her 
head   out  o'  the   door   and 
s'ys,  '  There's  the 


,  now,'  and  Bob  Ford 

he    looked   over    his    shoulder    'n'    s'ys, 
'Sure    'nough    Soapy,    there    goes    your 


man. 


"  Min  an'  me    heard    every  word    jest 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


11 


as  plain  as  a  pin.  Cy  heard  it,  too,  and 
he  knowed  wliat  it  meant.  He  wuz 
game — I'll  say  that  fur  him — 'n'  faced 
about  'n'  reached  fur  his  gun  quicker 
'n'  the  jerk  of  a  lamb's  tail  in  fly 
time,  but  Soaj)y  got  there  first,  'cause 
he'd  rushed  out  with  his  gun  cocked, 
and  it  wuz  all  day  with  poor  Cy  'fore 
you   could   say  Jack  Robinson." 

"Reached  for  his  gun?"  (in  imagi- 
nation I  inquire  doubtingl}^) — "  then  he 
was  — " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  was  heeled.  C}^  wuz  n't 
no  chump.  He  knowed  he  was  takin' 
his  life  in  his  hands  when  he  jumped 
that  gang  an'  began  to  roast  them  in 
his  paper.  He  knowed  they'd  lay  fui' 
him  an'  do  him  up  if  they  ever  got 
the  drop  on  him  'fore  he  could  draw. 
But  oh,  say,  if  poor  Cy  had  just  had 
a  show — or  even  haJf  a  show— would  n't 
he    shot    the    everlastin'  stuffin'    out   o' 


•  1 


12 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


that  crowd  quic^  r  'n'  a  cat  could  lick 
her  ear !  That's  what  he  would,  mis- 
ter, fur  he  was  game  an'  he  could 
handle  a  gun  beautiful.  But"  (in 
my  fancy  your  worthy  tough  always 
draws  his  sleeve  across  his  face  at  this 
junctu/e)  "  I  suppose  it  had  to  be — 
prob'ly  it  was  God'l  Mighty 's  will. 
Tliere's  the  pole  over  yander  front  o' 
Min's  place  we  strung  _^r- 

Soapy  and  Bob  to,  an' 
there  wuz  n't  no  in- 
quest on  Jte?n  —  not, 
much  there  wuz  n't, 
for  the  coroner  himself 
helped  at  the  lynchin' 
—  everyhody  helped 
'ceptin'  that  pigeon- 
livered  cad  of  a  preacher, 
to  deliver  a  lecture  to  the  crowd  on 
tht>  majesty  of  the  law  an'  that  kind 
()'    thinff,    l)ut   he   c:ot   left   on    his   little 


^T'-'SJc?,  ' 


He   wanted 


77//!,'    SILVER    QUKES. 


13 


game  that  time.  Oh,  lie's  too  slow  for 
this  camp,  mister.  The  preacher  that 
can't  keep  up  with  the  band  wagon, 
ain't  got  no  business  monkey  in'  around 
a  live  mini.ig  camp  like  Creede." 
But  bless  my  stars,  hjw  my  anxiety 
for  you  has  drawn  me  into  digression  ? 
I  started  to  tell  you  what  happened 
at  the  gun -store.  You  know  it's  a 
place  where  some  clever  men  drop  in 
and  lounge  a  bit  and  swap  sporting 
stories  and  smoke  a  friendly  cigar.  I 
heard  some  one  call  me  to  the  rear, 
and  going  back,  I  found  Belford  and 
their  reverences,  Tom  Uzzell  and  My- 
ron Eeed — God  bless  their  manly 
souls — and  one  or  two  othei's 
I  did  not  know.  And  your 
friend,  the  Reverend  Myron, 
was  reading  aloud  to  the 
crowd  that  fanciful  little 
jingle  you  had  in  yes- 
terday's  Time.^  about   the   beautiful    but 


II 


14 


THE    SILVEIt    QUEEN, 


willful    maid    who    wandered    d 


to 


OV»^Il 

snatched 


the    shore     of     sin     and     got 
back  by  some  compunctious  Joseph   be- 
fore  the   undertow   caught   her,   or  Ian- 


to   that 


•al    effect  : — for 


guage 

me,  I  have  n't  been  able  to  read  it 
myself  and  cannot  recall  a  line  of  it 
although    I  recognized   it   as   a  gem. 

Well,  you  could  see  the  little  crowd 
was  being  affected,  for  Mr.  Keed  was 
delivering  it  with  exquisite  feeling, 
and  when  he  had  finished,  there  was 
a  general  glance  of  admiration  all 
round  ;  and  Mr.  Uzzell  remarked  that 
there  was  a  fine  sermon — I  think,  on 
reflection,  that  he  said  a  fine,  strong 
sermon — in  the  verses  ;  and  your 
fi'iend  Reed  smiled.  Then  Belford, 
in  a  characteristic  burst  of  rhetoric, 
declared  that  *'  The  Muses  must  have 
kissed      in      his      cradle,    the      fellow 


who     wrote     those    lines. 


iy 


And 


your 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


15 


friend,  the  Kevereiid  Myron,  smiled 
out  loud,  and  Belford  glanced  around 
the  crowd  for  approval. 

I  should  n't  consider  that  fraternal 
magnanimity  re(piired  \\\v  to  repeat 
these  flattering  expressions  t'^  you,  Cy, 
only  that  I  feel  your  doom  draws 
nigh.  It  is  borne  in  upon  me  with 
all  the  psychic  force  of  a  prophecy 
that  you  are  fated  to  perish  ])y  the 
ignominious  hand  of  our  owji  and 
only  Soapy,  if  you  persist  in  starting 
that  daily.  You  can't  run  a  daily 
without  saying  soihething,  and  you 
can't  say  anything  that  ought  to  be 
said  without  giving  mortal  offense  to 
the  toughs  who  are  running  tliat  camp, 
and  you  can't  give  offense  to  them 
without  gett'ng  shot.  It  is  an  ancient 
saying  that  "a  word  to  the  wise  is 
suiRcient"  ;  but  it  were  better  to  say, 
as    experience    proves,  that    a   word   to 


ir, 


THE    SILVKlt    QVEEN. 


I  '' 


the  wise  is  generally  superfluous.  Be 
wise,  Cyrus,  in  your  day  and  generation. 
Seek  fame  in  other  fields.  Open  a 
boarding-house  or  an  undertakei'^s  shop, 
or  })oth.  This  will  give  you  a  chance 
to  study  human  nature  in  all  its  phases. 
It  is  the  school  for  a  poet  and  philoso- 
pher. Don't  miss  the  opportunity. 
Don't  waste  your  promising  young  life 
writing  poetry  or  running  a,  daily  paper 
to  reform  the  morals  of  a  raining  camp. 
Either  is  sure  to  bring  you  to  an  igno- 
minious grave.  But  if,  in  spite  of  my 
prayers  and  tears,  you  will  persist,  send 
me  your  paper.  I  shall  have  a  curi- 
osity to  see  what  sort  of  a  stagger  you 
make  at  moulding  the  protoplasm  of 
public  opiiiion  into  a  cellular  structure 
of  moral  impulse.  Send  me  the  paper, 
sure.     So-long.     God  protect  you. 

Always, 

Fitz-Mac. 


77/ f;    SILVER    or  A' AW. 


17 


p.  »9.— Now,  may  confusion  take  my  muddled 
brains,  but  1  have  overlooked  tlie  very  thing  I 
started  to  write  you  about. 

The  inclosed  letter  of  introduction  will  make 
you  acquainted  with  Misf*  Polly  Parsons,  a 
young  girl  whom  I  have  known  from  chihlhood, 
and  in  whose  welfare  I  take  a  serious  interest. 
She  is  a  bright  and  beautiful  girl— and  a  thor- 
oughly good  girl,  let  me  remark— and  I  want 
her  to  know  you  and  ^^el  that  she  has  a  friend 
in  you  on  whom  she  can  call  for  counsel  and 
protection  if  need  be. 

She  is  under  the  necessity,  not  only  of  mak- 
ing her  own  living,  but  of  contributing  to  tiie 
support  of  her  father's  family.  Her  moiher  and 
little  brother  are  here,  living  in  two  rooms,  but 
her  father  is  in  Chicago.  I  knew  the  family 
there  years  ago  when  (hey  were  very  rich,  and 
surrounded  by  every  luxury— fine  homo  on 
Michigan  avenue,  carriages  and  footman  and  all 
that.  But  Parsons  went  broke  a  few  years  ago 
on  grain  speculations,  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  he 
lost  his  courage  with  his  money  and  is  now  a 
broken-spirited  man,  doing  the  leg  work  for 
brokers  and  leaving  his  family  to  shift  for 
themselves,  or  pretty  nearly  so.  I  suppose  it  is 
really  impossible  for  the  poor  fellow  to  help 
(hem  very  much  or  he  would,  for  he  loved  his 
wife  and    children.      Polly  had  every  advantag^e 


IS 


TUK    SlIAUli    Ijl  KKN. 


Mi 


that  money  coiiUl  purclmse  till  the  old  man 
failed,  and  she  is  tlnely  educated.  She  is  a  girl 
of  great  courage  and  has  an  auibitioii  to  make 
a  business  woman  of  herself  and  help  her  father 
onto  his  feet  again.  She  has  some  ol  his 
genius  for  bold,  speculative  action,  and  has 
taken  up  stenography  and  typewriting— not  as 
au  end  but  only  as  a  means. 

I  am  very  much  afraid  she  has  made  a  se- 
rious misstep  in  going  to  Creede  and  that  she 
will  get  herself  hopelessly  compromised  before 
she  is  done  with  it. 

She  has  gone  down  with  that  Sure  Thing 
Mining  Company  outfit  and  I  suspect  they  are 
a  bad  lot;  but  some  of  them  knew  her  father 
in  the  past,  and  thus  gained  her  confidence. 
She  is  too  prefty  a  girl  and  too  inexperienced 
to  be  exposed  to  the  associations  of  a  mining 
camp  like  Creede,  where  there  are  so  few  decent 
women,  without  great  danger.  She  has  got  cour- 
age and  an  earnest  purpose,  and  those  qualities 
are  a  woman's  best  safeguard;  but  still,  she  is 
only  a  girl  of  nineteen  or  twenty  and  she  does  n't 
realize  what  a  delicate  thing  a  woman's  reputa- 
tion is.  It  was  sheer  recklessness  for  her  to  go 
down  there;  but  I  didn't  know  it  till  after  she 
was  off.  Her  mother  got  anxious  after  she  had 
let  her  go  and  came  to  see  me  about  it.  I  be- 
lieve—without     positively     knowing— that     the 


r  ■■ 


TUK    SlLVKIt    (JIKKS. 


W) 


outfit  she  has  goiiu  to  nro  right-down  Bcniiips. 
They  seem  to  have  plenty  of  money  and  they 
have  opened  a  grand  office  liere,  but  tliey  strilte 
me  as  l)ad  eggs.  A  very  suspicious  circumstance 
in  regard  to  their  motives  toward  her— to  my 
mind  at  least— is  that  they  have  promised  lier 
a  salary  of  two  hundreu  and  fifty  dollars  a 
month.    That  is  -—.^ 

simply     prepos-  J^       ^^  |  i. 

terous.  (You 
know  that  they 
can  get  an  army 
of  competent  ste- 
nographers and 
typewriters  at 
one  hundred  dol- 
lars a  month,  or 
eve])  less.)  I  don't 
like  the  looks  of 
it  a  bit.  I  suspect  they — or  one  of  them— have 
designs  against  the  girl. 

She  is  honest  to  the  core,  and  they  will  never 
accomplish  her  ruin— if  that  is  what  they  mean. 
But  of  course,  you  must  understand,  I  nm  only 
voicing  a  suspicion,  and  a  very  uncharitable  one 
at  that;  but  the  odor  of  the  outfit  is  bad,  and 
they  may  compromise  her  hopelessly  before  she 
gets  her  eyes  open,  and  ppoll  her  life. 

I  want  you  to  hunt  her  up  and  keep  an  eye  on 


-f^*---^^    -^aJK 


i! 


20 


TIIK    SILVKU    QVKKN. 


t   f 


!:■ 


] 


licr,  and  put  youi-Holf  on  a  square  footing  with 
her,  so  that  8ho  will  have  contidcnce  in  you. 
Above  all  things,  see  that  she  has  a  boarding 
place  where  there  is  some  respe'itaole  married 
woman,  and  give  her  a  talking  to  about  the 
camp  that  will  open  her  eyes.  She  will  take 
care  of  herself  all  right  if  she  is  once  put  on 
her  guard. 

I  want  you  to  understand  she  is  no  pick-up 
for  any  rake  to  tritle  with;  but  a  woman  is  a 
woman— you  know  that,  Cy,  as  well  as  I  do — 
and  youth  is  youth. 

She  is  a  good  telegraphei — unusually  good,  I 
imngine.  I  mention  this  so  that  you  may  get 
her  employment  if  that  job  she  has  gone  to 
looks  at  all  scaly,  and  likely  to  compromise  her. 

She  has  great  force  of  character— her  father's 
temperament  before  he  broke  down— and  she  has 
taken  up  all  these  things  to  fit  herself  for  that 
business  career  to  which  she  aspires.  Don't  be 
deceived  by  her  suave  and  amiable  manner  into 
thinking  her  a  weakling,  for  she  has  got  immense 
force  of  character,  and  she  perfectly  believes  she 
is  going    to  have  a  business  career. 

I  have  told  her  in  the  letter  that  you  are 
engaged  to  the  nicest  girl  in  Denver,  so  as  ^3 
put  you  on  a  confidential  footing,  and  head  oft 
your  falling  in  love  with  her  yourself.  Be  a 
brother  to  her,  Cy,  and  keep  her  out  of  trouble. 


TIIK    SlLVKli    Ql'KKS. 


n 


God  knows  you  are  wicked  enougli  yourself  to 
scent  wickedness  from  afar  and  see  any  danger 
in  the  path  of  au  attractive  girl  witliout  expe- 
rience. Look  her  up  at  once— a«  oncf,  mind  you 
—and  let  me  have  a  good  account  of  yourself  as 
soon  as  possible.  Affectionately, 

Fitz-Mac. 

-        II. 

CuKEDE,  C(»lo.,  March  17,  1802. 
To  Fitz-Mac,  Denver,  Colo. 

My  Deal'  Fltz  : — Your  letter  came 
here  yesterday  along  with  the  circulars 
sent  ])y  those  peddlers  of  printing 
presses  and  printer's  ink,  hut  I  have 
been  so  busy  getting  things  in  shape  to 
start  the  Chronicle^  that  there  lias  been 
little  time  to  look  after  the  l)eautiful 
creature  of  whom  vou  write.  Thou- 
sands  of  stenographers  have  gone  from 
home  to  take  positions  where  the  pay 
was  better,  and  no  great  harm  has  re- 
sulted, and  why  you  have  become  so 
thoroughly  alarmed  over  the  young  lady, 


•«-> 


■r^s: 


OQ 


TIIK    SILVER    QUKKff. 


I  am  unal)le  to  understand.  If,  as  your 
letter  would  indicate,  nlie  haw  lived  all 
her  life  in  Chicago,  hIic  \h  perfectly  Hafe 
in  Creed e. 

I  went  to  the  station,  or  rather  to 
the  plac(^  where  the  train  Htoi)a,  this 
morning,  ])ut  saw  no  one  who  would 
answer  the  description  of  your  young 
lady.  Of  the  three  hundred  passen- 
gers, not  more  than  ten  were  women, 
and  very  ordinary  looking  women  .  at 
that. 

I  know  that  I  could  find  your  friend 
if  she  is  in  the  camp,  by  turning  your 
letter  over  to  Hartigan,  the  city  editor, 
but  he  is  a  handsome  young  Irishman 
who  (piotes  poetry  by  the  mile,  and 
the  fact  that  he  has  a  wife  in  Denver 
would  not  prevent  him  from  opening  a 
flirtation  at  the  first  meeting. 

No,  she  is  better  off  with  the  smooth 
young  man  than  with  Hartigan.     Tabor, 


TIIK    SIlA'KIi    Ql'KKS, 


2:\ 


who  is  to  be  the  h)cal  iimii,  is  single, 
hut  litth^  better  th-in  the  eity  e«lit«»r. 
He  is  very  Husceptible  an<l  woiihl 
Tull  in  hwe  witli  tlie  y<Mini^'  wonuin 
and,  of  course,  nej^'h'ct  liis  work.  A 
morning  pajier  wliose  editor  is  threat- 
ened witli  matrimony  sliould  keep  its 
working  force  out  of  the  breakers. 

Tlie  worst  feature,  so  far  as  T  can 
see,  is  the  fact  tluit  1  am  unable  to  lo- 
cate the  Sure  Tiling  Mining  Company  ; 
but  I  hope  when  Mr.  Wygant,  the  ad- 
vertising man,  comes  in,  ]w  may  be 
able  to  enlighten  me  on  this  point.  It 
is  my  purpose,  so  far  as  possible,  to 
carry  advertisements  in  the  Chronicle 
for  none  but  good  companies  ;  and  to 
guard  against  any  impositions,  I  em- 
ployed a  nian  who  is  well  kno\vn  and 
well  acquainted  with  all  the  fake 
schemes  ;  and  further,  that  he  may  have 
no     serious     temptations,     he     will     be 


«jMMB—i55SB^^^?in£ 


>: 


N"N 


24 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


n 


! 

4 

i 
I        I 


paid  ji  salaiy  instead  of  a  commission. 
However,  tlierci  may  l)e  a  Sure  Thing 
Mining  Company,  and  it  may  he  all 
right  ;  but  I  hav(»  failed  so  far  to  learn 
anything  about  it.  The  camp  continues 
to  boom.  One  of  the  fraternity  shot  a 
thuml)  off  tlu?  hand  of  a  fellow  sport 
at  Bannigan's  last  night.  I  liave  not 
taken  in  the  town  yet,  although  the 
temptation  has  l)een  very  great.  Both 
the  rival  theaters  have  tendered  me  a 
box,  and  assured  me  that  I  ^vonld  not 
be  "worked." 

Until  now,  I  never  knew  what  an 
imj)orta])t  personage  tlie 
editor  of  a  morning  paper 
was.  Tlie  citv  marshal 
called  at  the  office  yes- 
tei'day  with  a  half  dozen 
l>ottles  of  beer,  wdiich  he 
gave  to  Freckled  Jimmie,  the  devil,  with 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


*J0 


the  explanation  that  he  understood  that 
the  editor  was  a  Democrat. 

I  have  made  a  good  impression  on 
society  here,  I  think.  The  first  man  I 
was  introduced  to  when  I  stepped  from 
the  trairi,  was  Bob  Ford,  wlio,  in  con- 
nection with  the  Governor  of  Missoui'i, 
removed  Jesse  J^unes  some  ten  years 
ago.  (He  is  a  pale,  sallow  fellow  with 
a  honnted  look,  and  he  is  always 
nervous  when  his  back  is  to  the  door.) 
Fitz,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  wicked- 
ness in  this  world,  and  in  a  mining 
camp  they  make  no  attempt  at  hiding 
it. 

If  I  Avere  not  very  busy,  I  should 
be  very  unliap])y  here.  From  morning 
till  night  and  fi'om  night  until  morn- 
ing, the  ceaseless  tramp,  tramp,  on 
wooden  walks  of  the  comers  and  goers 
is  painfully  monotonous.  Once  in  a 
while  a  pistol-shot  echo'*s  in   the  canon, 


26 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


M 


and  the  saddest  thing  is  that  it  is  so 
common  that  the  players  scarcely  turn 
from  the  tables  to  see  who  has  fallen 
in   the   fight. 

And  men  move  on,  and  give  no  heed 
To  life  or  death, — and  this  is  Creede. 

By-and-l)y  it  will  be  different. 
When  we  have  a  city  government, 
crime  will  be  punished.  The  gambling 
and  other  disreputable  resorts  will  be 
confined  to  their  own  quarter,  and 
Creede  will  become  the  greatest  silver 
camp  on  earth. 

After  j^aying  one  thousand  dollars  on 
our  building  and  as  much  on  our 
press  and  outfit,  we  had  one  thousand 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  our 
credit. 

This  morning's  mail  brought  a  let- 
ter from  Mr.  Sanders  inclosing  a  Last 
Chance  check  for  five  hundred  dol- 
lars.    The    same  •  mail    brought    D.    H. 


i      i! 


THE   SILVER    i^UEEN. 


27 


M/s  check  for  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  with  the  request  that  I  accept 
it  with  his  compliments,  but  he  would 
have  no  stock.  Now  these  people  are 
all  Republicans,  and  they  know  that  I 
will  run  a  Democratic  paper.  In  the 
language  of  the  songster,  "That  is 
love." 

I  want  to  say  that  you  do  my  friend 
Smith  a  great  injustice,  when,  in  your 
day-dream,  you  make  him  my  slayer. 
He  is  my  personal  body-guard.  He  is 
also  a  bitter  enemy  of  Ford's.  Mark 
you,  these  men  will  meet  some  day — 
I  say  some  day^  for  it's  never  night 
in  Creede, — and  whether  he  do  kill 
Sapolio  or  Sapolio  do  kill  him,  or 
both, — especially  the  latter, — the  incident 
will  render  my  position  all  the  more 
secure. 

When  Go\ernor  Routt  was  here 
working      the     shells      on     the    Smart 


i;]' 


28 


THE  SILVER    QUEEN. 


M 


i' • 


Alecks  who  came  to  camp  to  buy 
corner  lots  cheap,  I  bought  a  lot 
on  the  shores  of  the  West  Willow. 
The  selvage  of  my  property  was 
swept  by  the  rushing  waters  of  the 
busy  little  brook  ;  and  I  gave  it  out 
that  I  wanted  that  particular  lot  to 
have  water- j^ower  for  ray  press.  Of 
course,  all  were  anxious  to  aid  in  the 
establishment  of  a  morning  paper,  and 
the  lot  came  to  me  at  three  huiidred 
dollars,  the  minimum  price,  which  is 
juF<t  thirty  times  its  value.     The  lot  next 

to  mine  was  reserved  by 

the  State  for  the   use  of 

the  little  brook. 

A  speculative  pi- 
lC^>:  rate,    by     the 

=  _  .^=^        name  of  Stree- 

^.^7,r^..  ^.-^r^-^^:-'...       py^    built     a 

house  over  the  river  and  turned  the 
stream  through  my  lot,  so  now  all  I 
own  is  the  river. 


ti 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


l>t) 


lii  closing,  let  me  assure  you  that  I 
will  do  all  ill  my  power  to  locate  the 
young  woman,  and  advise  you. 

Yours  truly, 

Cy  Warman. 

III. 

Denvek,  March  20,  1802. 
My  Dear  Warm  an  :— Yours  of  the 
17th,  after  some  unaccounted-for  delay, 
has  hut  just  reached  me.  Pei-haps  your 
gifted  postmistress  had  not  time  to  read  it 
at  once,  and  so  held  it  over 
till  leisure  should  serve 
her  curiosity  ;  or  she  may 
have  found  unexpected  dif- 
R'  liculty  in  deciphering  your 
%  ingeniously  atrocious  writ- 
ing, which  I  can  imagine  would  only  in- 
crease the  curiosity  of  a  gifted  woman. 

I  once  lived  where   the   postmaster,  a 
man     of     intellectual     inclinations,    was 


If 


do 


THE    SILVKli    QUEEN. 


il  ■ 


$ 

1" 


very  slow  at  reading  manuscript,  being 
obliged  to  spell  out  the  words  labori- 
ously, and  I  found  the  delay  occasioned 
by  the  interest  he  took  in  studying  my 
epistolary  style,  to  improve  his  mind,  a 
great  annoyance.  But  a  bright  thought 
struck  me  one  day,  and  I  employed  a 
typewriter.  After  that  there  was  but 
little  delay,  for  he  could  read  j^rint 
very  well.  I  offer  you  the  value  of  this 
experience,  not  at  all  on  my  account, 
for  I  can  generally  manage  to  make 
out  what  you  are  writing  about  pretty 
closely,  but  to  promote  expedition  in 
mail  service.  It  occurs  to  me  to  men- 
tion, however,  en  passant^  that  if  you 
fail  in  that  newspaper  enterprise,  you 
still  have  a  bright  career  for  your  pen 
before  you  in  the  Orient,  marking  tea- 
chests.  Do  not  imagine  that  I  am 
complaining  when  I  say  that  your 
friends  would   find    more    time  to   love 


THE    SlLVEIi    QVKKN. 


31 


you  if  you  would  ciiiploy  ji  tyimwiitcr. 
But  all  this  is  neither  here  nor  there. 
I  am  in  despair  at  the  devil -may  care 
tone  in  which  you  write  about  Miss 
Parsons,  and  I  am  really  alarmed 
about  her  not  having  arrived.  She 
certainly  could  not  have  had  much 
money  by  her  to  make  a  leisurely  trip 
of  it,  stopping  off  to  see  the  towns  and 
the  scenery   en  route. 

Her  mother  was  in  a  few  moments 
ago,  and  not  having  heard  from  her, 
is  naturally  anxious,  but  I  affected  to 
consider  it  nothing.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  regard  it  as  very  strange  and 
alarming,  considering  that  she  left 
Denver  with  a  man  I  strongly  sus- 
pect is  a  scamp,  and  if  the  Sure 
Thing  Mining  Company  has  no  office 
there,  the  worst  is  to  be  feared.  It 
looks  very  bad. 

My     hope     is,     that    in     your     indif- 


:V2 


THE    SlIA'Kli    IJVKKS. 


feniiUM^  to  my  roqueHt,  not  a[)[)reciat- 
iiig  the  BcrioiisiU'SH  of  the  cawc,  you 
luive  not  h)okcd  around.  I  Hup[)ose  it 
is  a  matter  of  no  little  trou])le  to  find 
any  one,  unless  you  happen  upon  him, 
in  such  a  mad  rush  as  has  set  in  for 
Creede.     I  met  Whitehead  of  the  JVews^ 

who  is  just  hack  from 
there,  and  he  says  tliat 
■^^  not  only  are  the  plat- 
forms even  of  the  cars 
crowded,  l)ut  men  act- 
ually ride  on  top  from 
Alamosa  over,  in  the 
craze  to  get  there. 
How  can  such  a  rush 
of  people  he  housed  and  fed  in  a  camp 
that  contained  but  five  little  cabins 
ninety  days  ago  !  But  it  is  all  grist 
for   your   mill,  of  course. 

Now,   can     I   make     you    understand 
the   seriousness  of   this  case  ?     You  cer- 


What   insanity  ! 


m. 


THE    SI  I  A' Eli    QIEEN. 


33 


tainly  know  how  easy  it  is  for  a  vil- 
lain to  coniproniiso  a  young  and  pretty 
girl  like  Miss  Parsons  in  a  plate  like 
Creede,  and  you  know  that  a  young 
girl  compromised  is  already  half  ruined. 
As  I  have  said,  Polly  is  a  pure-minded, 
honest  girl  of  great  force  of  character. 
I  consider  her  taking  up  and  mastering 
shorthand  and  typewriting  and  tele- 
graphing, sufficient  evidence  of  that  ; 
but  she  is  inexperienced  and  unsus[)i- 
cious,  and  may  find  herself  undone  be- 
fore she  realizes  her  danger.  Besides, 
that  fellow  Ketchum  is  a  handsome, 
unscrupulous  man,  with  an  oily  tongue 
in   his   head. 

I  have  to  go  to  Chicago  to-night  and 
I  shall  be  absent  two  or  three  weeks, 
otherwise  I  would  run  down  to  Creede 
myself — so  great  is  my  anxiety  al)out 
this  girl,  whom  I  have  known  from 
her  cradle. 


11' 


d4 


mK    NILVKIt    QIKEN. 


I  must  leaver  the  matter  in  your 
hands — if  I  can  only  make  you  look  at 
it  seriously.  Her  mother's  address  is 
No.  17{)(>  California  street — Mrs.  Ma- 
tilda Parsons.  Communicate!  with  her 
if  necessary.  I  have  told  her  about 
writing   to  you,  etc. 

Probably,  while  in  Chicago,  I  shall 
be  able  to  look  up  her  father  and  will 
talk  with  him  about  the  matter.  Now 
please  take  up  this  matter  seriously  and 
oblige   me  forever. 

Au  revolt'^  and  good  luck  to  you 
with  the  paper. 

Fitz-Mac. 


ili  M 


IV. 

Creede,  Colo.,  March  25,  '92. 
My    Dear    Fitz  :  —  Since      receiving 
your   second  letter,  I   have  left   nothing 
undone  in  the   way   of    keeping   a   con- 
stant   lookout   for   Miss    Parsons,   for    T 


THE    SILVKIi    QrEKN. 


35 


see  how  tcrriVily  in  eariK'st  yoii  are. 
VcHterday  I  took  dinner  at  a  little  res- 
taurant in  Upper  Creede,  and  when  the 
girl  came  to  take  my  order  nhe  almost 
took  my  breath.  There  was  something 
about    her    that 

told  me  that  she 
was  new  at  the 
business  ;  and  I 
began  to  be 
hopeful  that  she 
might  be  the 
young  lady  for 
whom  I  had  been  looking 
the  past  week.  When 
rest  had  left  the  table,  I  as 
for  a  second  cup  of  coffee, 
and  when  she  brought  it,  I  made  an*  at- 
tempt to  engage  the  girl  in  conversa- 
tion. 

"  You  are  very  busy  here,"  T  said. 

"  Yes,"   she    answered,    with    a   slight 


ki 


'Mi 


rilK    SIlA'Klt    (JI'tCtJN. 


i'i:;!! 


laJHc  of   tlu;    (*yt*!)i(>\VM,  hikI    juHt  a    hint 
of  a  Hiuil(>  phiyiiig  round  her  mouth. 

"I  prt'sunic  you  get  very  tired  by 
cloning  time,"  I  ventured. 

*'  We  n(^ver  close,"  she  said  ;  and 
again  I  noticed  the  same  movement  of 
the  eyes. 

I  knew  she  thought  I  was  endeavor- 
ing to  build  lip  an  ac({uaintanoe,  and  it 
annoyed  me.  If  tlien^  is  one  tiling  I 
dislike,  it  is  to  be  taken  for  a  masher 
when  I  am  not  trying  to  mash. 

"  Have  n't  I  seen  you  in  Denver  V 

"  Perhaps." 

"Have  n't  I  seen  you  with  Mr.  Ketch- 
urn  ?" 

"Perhaps." 

"  Do  you  know  Mr.  Ketchum  ?"  I 
asked  with  some  embarrassment. 

"  Do  you  ?" 

"Well,  not  very  intimately,"  was    my 


THE    SILVKH    Ql-KKS. 


37 


somewhat    uncertain    reply.      *'  Is    he  in 
town  ?" 

The  girl  laughtnl  in  real  earnest. 
When  she  did  compost'  liernelf,  she 
asked,  ''  Are  you  a  reporter  for  the  m-w 
paper  ?  " 

I  told  her  I  was  not,  and  then  I 
asked  her  if  she  could  tell  me  where 
Mr.    Ketch u.d's  office  was. 

It  was  down  the  street  near  the  Holy 
Moses  saloon,  she  said  ;  and  I  congratu- 
lated myself  upon  having  gotten  a 
straight  and  lucid  reply  from  her. 

*'  Is  he  in  town  ? "  was  my  next 
question. 

"He  was  at  this  table  when  you 
came  in.     Don't  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well,"  said  I. 

"Then   how   do   you    know    you    saw 
me  with  Mr.  Ketchum  ?  " 
,     I  said  he  must  have  changed. 

"No,"    said    the    girl,  showing    some 


> ! 


%r 


38 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


spunk.  "You  don't  know  him.  You 
never  saw  liim  ;  but  you  are  trying  to 
be  funny.  Your  name  is  Lon  Harti- 
gan,  and  I  am   dead   onto   you." 

"  O,  break  ! — l)reak  away  !  "  said  a 
chemical  blonde,  as  she  swept  in  from 
the  kitchen,  coming  to  the  res- 
cue of  her  "partner,"  as  she 
called  her.  "  The  girls  from 
the  Beebee  put  us 
onto  you  and  that  fel- 
low from  New  York. 
You  can't  come  none  of 
your  monkey  doodle  bus- 
iness here.  Mr.  Ketchum  is 
the  nicest  man  'at  eats  here 
and  he  always  leaves  a  dollar  under 
his  plate."  And  the  drug-store  blonde 
snapped  her  fingei's  under  my  nose, 
whirled  on  her  heel,  and  banging  a 
soiled  towel  into  a  barrel  that  stood  by 
the  door  leading  to  the  kitchen,  she 
swept  from  the  room. 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


\\\) 


"Will  you  hvuv^  me  some  hot  cof- 
fee ?''  I  said,  softly,  to  the  girl  with 
her   own   hair. 

''  You  misjudge  me,"  I  began,  as  she 
set   it  down. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  replied  with  a 
hemi-smile  that  hinted  of  sympathy, 
but   is   worse  than  no    sympathy. 

"  Now,  see  here,"  I  began,  "  Fll  tell 
you  my  name  if  you'll  tell  me  yours. 
My   name   is   Warman." 

"My  name  is  Boyd— Inez  Boyd," 
said  the  girl,  "and  I  am  sorry  to  have 
talked   as  I   have,   to  you." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  I,  as  I  left 
the   room. 

Outside  I  saw  a  sign  which  read  : 
"The  Sure  Thing  Mining  and  Milling 
Company,  Capital  Stock,  $1,000,000." 

The  next  moment  I  stood  in  the 
outer  office,  saw  a  sign  on  a  closed 
door:     "  F.  I.  Kctchum— Private." 


I 

(I 


40 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


11 


iiil 


I  opened  a  little  wooden  gate,  stepped 
to  the  private  entrance  and  knocked. 
A  tall,  good-looking  man  of  thirty-five 
to  forty,  with  soft  gray 
hair,  came  out  and  closed 
the  door  fpiickly. 

''Is  this  Mr.  Kctchtim?" 
I  asked. 

"  Yes  sir,  what  can  I 
do  for  you  ?" 

Now  that  was  a  sticker. 
It  had  not  occurred  to 
me  that  to  call  a  man 
out  of  his  private  office 
one   ought   to   have   some   business. 

"  I'm  the  editor  of  the  Chronicle  and 
I  just  dropped  in  to  get  acquainted.  I 
have  heard  of  your  company." 

The  man  looked  l)lack.  "  We  are 
not  looking  for  newspaper  notoriety," 
he  said,  without  offering  me  a  seat.  In 
short,  he  did  n't  rave  over  me,  as  some 


THE    SlLVKli    QVKKS. 


41 


of  the  real  estate  men  did,  and  after 
asking  how  tlie  property  of  the  com- 
pany was  looking,  I  w^ent  away.  Poor 
as  I  am,  I  would  have  given  twenty  to 
have  seen  into  the  "Private"  room. 

I  write    all    this    in    detail,  that   you 
may  know  how  hard  I  have  tried  to  do 
my  duty  to  yon  as  a  fi'iend,  and  to  the 
poor    unfortunate    girl,    as    a    man.      I 
shall    have   more   time  from  now  on,  as 
I  have  for    my  superintendent  and   gen- 
eral   master   mechanic,  Mr.  J.  D.  Vaug- 
han,  who  can    make  a   newspaper,  from 
the  writing  of  the  editorial  page,  to  the 
mailing    list.     In    the   past,  as    now,  he 
has    always     been     with     distinguished 
men.       He  was  with    Artemus  Ward   at 
Cleveland,    Wallace    Gruelle,    at   Louis- 
ville,   Bartley    Campbell,    at    New    Or- 
leans, Will  L.  Visscher  when  he  ran  the 
"Headlight,"    on      board     the     steamer 
Richmond    running    between     Louisville 


n 


42 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


and    New   Orleans,  and  with    Field  and 
Kothaker  on  the  Denver  Trihune. 

We  got  out  our  first  issue  Monday, 
and  I  feel  a  great  deal  better.  It  has 
been  the  dream  of  my  life  to  have  a 
daily  })aper,  and  we  have  got  one  now 
^^  that    is    all    wool    and    as 

wide  as  the  press  will 
print.  I  have  this  line  un- 
der the  headir.g : 

"Politics:  Free  Coinage; 
Religion  :  Creede." 

I  think  that  line  will  last. 
It  is  what  we  must  live  for 
and  hojie  for.  Of  course,  we 
expect  to  lose  money  for  a  few  months ; 
but  if  the  camp  continues  to  grow,  the 
Chronicle  Puldishing  Company  will  be 
a  good  venture.  There  are  many  hard- 
ships to  be  endured  in  a  mining-camp. 
The  printers  had  to  stand  in  an  un- 
covered   house  and    set    t}'pe   while    the 


THK    SILVER    QUEK?f. 


43 


snow  drifted  around  tlicir  oolLars.  They 
held  a  meeting  in  the  rear  office  Sun- 
day, organized  a  printers'  unif)n,  fixed  a 
schedule  to  suit  themselves — fifty  cents  a 
thousand  ;  and,  in  order  that  I  might 
not  feel  lonely,  I  was  made  an 
honorary  member  of  the  union. 

Mr.  George  W.  Ohilds  was  taken  ^ 
in  at  the  same  time.  My  salary 
is  to  be  fifty  dollars  a  week  ;  but 
I  don't  intend  to  draw  my  sal- 
ary until  the  paper  is  on  a  pay- 
ing basis. 

We  have  not  got  our  motor  in  place 
yet,  and  I  had  to  pa}-  two  Mexicans 
twelve  dollars  for  turning  the  press  the 
first  night.  Coal  is  ten  dollars  a  ton  ; 
coal  oil  sixty  cents  a  gallon.  AVe  use 
a  ton  of  coal  every  twenty-four  hours 
and  five  gallons  of  oil  every  night.  It 
was  a  novel  sight  to  see  the  newsboys 
running     here    and    there    thi'ough    the 


II 


i 


44 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


willowH,  climbing  up  the  steep  sides  of 
the  gulch  to  the  tents  and  cabins  cry- 
ing "Morning  Chronicle!^''  where  the 
mountain  lion  and  the  grizzly  bear 
had  their  homes  but  six  months  ajjo. 
The  interesting  feature  in  the 
first  issue  is  a  three  -  column 
account  of  Gambler  Joe  Sim- 
mons' funeral.  It  tells  how  the 
gang  stood  at  the  grave  and 
di'ank  "  To  Joe's  soul  over  there 
— if  there  is  any  over  there." 
Yours   always, 

Cy  Warman. 


IV. 


Creede,  Colo.,  March  28,  1802. 
Dear  Fitz  : — Three  days  ago  I 
wrote  you  that  I  had  located  Mr. 
Ketchum  but  failed  to  find  the  girl. 
Yesterday  being  Sunday,  I  went  down 
to    the    hot   springs    at   Wagon   Wheel 


THE    SILVKli    Qi'EKN. 


45 


Gap  to  Rpeiid  the  day.  At  ilw  hotel 
I  met  Mrs.  McClelaiid,  of  Alamosa, 
and  while  we  were  conversing,  a  lady 
commenced  to  sing  in  the  parlor.  The 
soft  notes  that  came  from  the  })iano 
mingled  with  a  voice  so  full  of  soulful 
melody,  that  I  stopped 
talking  and  listened.  "Do 
you  like  music  ?"  asked 
the  good  lady  from  the 
San  Luis.  "  There  is  but 
one  thing  sweeter,"  I 
said,  "  and  that  is  poetry 
— the  music  of  the 
soul.  Take  me  in, 
won't  you  ?" 

We  entered  so  softly  that  the  young 
woman  at  the  piano  failed  to  notice 
our  coming,  and  sang  on  to  the  end  of 
the  piece. 

"  La  Paloma  !  "  How  different  from 
the  strains  I  had  heard   during  the  past 


I 


46 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


week,  from    tlie    Umpali    band   in  front 
of  tlie  Olympic  Theater. 

When  .she  hrd  finislied,  the  singer 
turned,  ])lu8hed,  and  rising,  advanced 
toward  my  friend,  hoUling  out  her 
hand  ;  and  I  was  suiprised  and  pleased 
to  hear  Mrs.  Mc.  say  : 
"Well,  I  want  to  know 
— are  you  here  ?  " 

The    young    lady    ac-  • 
knowledged  that  she  was, 
and  went  into  a  long  ex- 
planation   that    she    had 
concluded    to   stop    at    the 
sj)rings   until    matters    \vere   in    a    little 
better  shape  at  Creede. 

"  Where  is  Mr. ,  Mr. ,"  stam- 
mered Mrs.  Mc. 

"  Oh,  he's  in  Creede,'.'  said  the  young 
lady,  as  she  shot  a  glance  at  me  which 
was  followed  by  a  becoming  Idush. 
"  He    is    so    busy    at    the    mines  ;    they 


-^^ 


THE    SllA'Kli    (JIKKN. 


47 


i 


work  a  great  many  men,  you  know/' 
All     this    time    I     had     hceii    lookini' 

over  Mrs.  McCleland's  shoulder   into  an 

exceedingly  bright  and  interesting  face. 
"Oh,    I    beg   your    pardon,"  said   the 

good  lady,  "  this  is 

Mr.  Warman,  Miss 

Parsons." 

I  don't  know  for 
the  life  of  me, 
whether  I  said 
"Howdy,"  or 
"Good-by,"  I  was 
dazed.  I  had  for- 
gotten the  while  I 
looked  into  that  beautiful  face,  that  such 
a  person  lived  as  Polly  Parsons,  and 
when  it  came  to  me  all  at  once  like 
the  firing  of  a  blast,  it  took  the  wind 
out  of  my  sails  and  left  me  helpless 
in  mid-ocean. 

*'  Where     did     you      meet    Miss   Par- 


48 


TIIK    SIlA'Kli    IJl  HKS. 


^ 


Honn  ? "  I  iiHked,  wlu»n  tlio  young  lady 
had  left  the  room. 

"  At  AlaiiioHa,  some  two  wecks^  ago, 
Hhe  8toi)ped  at  our  hotel,  and  I  did  n't 
like  the  looks  of  the  man  she  was  witli ; 
8o  I  asked  her  to  sleep  in  a  spare 
room   just  off  from  my  own. 

"  I  heard  him  trying  to  persuade  her 
to  go  to  Creede  witli  him  the  next 
day,  but  could  not  understand  what  her 
argument  was,  except  that  she  would 
not  go  to  Creede  until  there  was 
something  for   her   to   do." 

"  Who  was  this  man  ? "     I  asked. 

"  His  name  is  Ketchuni  ;  he  is  con- 
nected with  the  Sure  Thing  Mining 
Company." 

"  At  last ! "  I  said  with  a  sigh  that 
was  really  a  relief  to  me. 

After  luncheon,  I  gave  the  letter 
you  sent,  to  Miss  Parsons,  and  I 
watched   her   face   while  she   read  it. 


'li 


TIIK    S.'LVKli    IJIKKS. 


49 


Of  one  of  two  tliiiiL'M  I  am  con- 
vinccd  ;  citlirr  she  loves  you  and  was 
glad  U>  set!  tliat  It'ttcr,  or  she  hates 
you  and  will  do  as  much 
for  me.  That  is  as  near 
as  you  can  guess  a  pretty 
woman. 

"  If  there's  anythini^  I 
can  do  for  you,  Miss 
Parsons  — "  ''  O,  I  am 
quite  capable  of  getting 
along  alone,"  sIk^  said. 
"I  thank  you,  of  c(>urse? 
but  there  is  nothinijr  ;  I 
am  promised  a  good  position  in  Mr. 
Ketchum's  office  as  soon  as  they  get 
things  in  shape.  I  have  some  ready 
money  with  me,  enough  to  pay  my 
expenses    at    the  hotel." 

"  You  will  not  find  so  pleasant  a 
hotel  in  Creede  as  this,  Miss  Parsons. 
The     Pattons    are    nice  people,    and    it 


m 


50 


THE   SILVKtt    (Jl'KKX. 


m 


would  ]h)  bettor,  I  think,  for  you  to 
rcnuiin  Ikto  until  a  position  is  open 
for  you,''  I   ventured   })y  way   of  advice. 

"  Mr.  Ketidiuni  has  (engaged  a  room 
for  me  over  th(i  Albany  Restaurant,'' 
she  said,  "  and  he  is  to  call  here  for 
me  to-morrow." 

*'But,  Miss  Parsons,"  said  I,  "do  you 
know  what  sort  of  a  place  that  is  ? " 

"  I  know,  sir,  that  Mr.  Ketchum 
would  not  take  me  to  an  improper 
place,"  and  she  gave  her  head  a  twist 
that  told  me  that  my  advice  was  not 
wanted. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Parsons," 
said  I,  by  way  of  explanation  ;  "  I  was 
thinking  of  the  Albany  Theater  build- 
ing ;  the  restaurant  may  be  all  right. 
But  I  was  thinking  only  of  your  wel- 
fare." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  but  she 
meant  "  Don't  trouble  yourself." 


*u 


III 


THE    SILVKn    (jL'KJuN. 


51 


"Goo<l-l)y,  MisM  PftrHons,"  I  naid,  ex- 
tending  my  hand.  ^'IIojn'  I  may  liavu 
the  jdeasure  of  meeting  you  in  ('leede." 

"  I  go  to  Creede  to-morrow,"  she  said 
as  she  gave  me  a  warm,  plump  liand 
and  said   "  (lood-hy." 

Fitz,  forgive  n^e  for  being  so  slow  ; 
but  you  forgot  to  tell  me  how  beautiful 
she  was  ;  the  Poet  of  the  Kansas  City 
Star  would  say:  "Iler  carriage,  face 
and  figure  are  perfection  ;  and  her  smile 
is  a  shimmer- tangled  day-dream,  as  she 
drifts  adown  the  aisle."  Such  eyes  ! 
like  miniature  seas,  set  about  with 
weeping  willows,  and  hair  like  ripening 
grain,  with  the  sunlight  sifting  tlirougli 
it.  Good -by, 

Cy  Warman. 
V. 

Grand  Pacific  Hotel, 
Chicago,  April  8. 


i 


Dear  Cy 


-Your    two   letters  of    the 


52 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


I  i 
I  > 


V    n: 


25th  and  28th  ult.,  forwarded  from 
Denver,  were  received  here  only  this 
morning  on  my  return  from  Milwaukee, 
whei'e  I  have  been  for  the  past  week 
negotiating  the  sale  of  that  Eagle  Gulch 
mining  property,  in  which  I  am  inter- 
ested. I  think  it  will  be  a  go,  and  if 
so,  I  shall  be   heeled — otherwise  busted. 

It  was  very  good  of  you,  old  boy,  to 
take  so  much  trouble  to  look  Miss 
Parsons  up  and  to  "locate"  that  scamp 
Ketchum.  I  shall  not  be  anxious,  now 
that  I  know  you  will  keep  an  eye 
on  her.  But  you  are  clear  off,  Cy,  as 
to   her   loving   or  hating  me. 

No  doubt  she  likes  me  a  little  bit, 
for  I  have  long  been  a  friend  of  the 
family  ;  and  they  were  always  kind  to 
me  when  they  were  rich,  and  I  have 
carried  pretty  Polly  around  in  my 
arms  when  she  was  a  baby.  I  knew 
her    father     back     in     Virginia    before 


they 


were   mar 


ried. 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


53 


Pretty  ?  I  should  think  she  is  pretty. 
That  is  why  I  felt  so  particularly 
anxious  about  her  going  to  Creede.  If 
she  had  been  a  ewe-necked  old  scrub 
of  a  typewriter,  w^ith  a  peaked  nose 
and  a  pair  of  gooseberry  eyes  in  her 
head,  do  you  fancy  I  could 
have  been  solicitous  about  her 
not  being  able  to  take  care 
of  herself  or  have  dreamt  of 
interesting  you  in  her  ? 

Cyrus,  my  princely  buck, 
if  there  was  any  *' peculiar  light"  in 
pretty  Polly's  eyes,  it  was  admiration 
for  your  manly  figure.  You  are  too 
modest  to   ever  do  yourself  justice. 

I  am  glad  you  found  Ketchum  and 
the  Sure  Thing  Mining  Company.  I 
had  to  laugh  at  the  mystery  you 
make  of  that  back  room  into  which 
you  were  not  permitted  to  peep.  No 
doul)t  he  was  working  some  pilgrim 
in    there    to   whom    he  expected   to   sell 


'}]  > 


rl ' 


54 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


stock,   and   did   not   want    to   be    inter- 
ru[)ted. 

I  met  a  broker  the  other  day  who 
knew  him  well  here.  He  is  a  scamp 
as  I  thought ;  but  not  exactly  the  kind 
of  scamp  I  thought.  He  has  had  a 
career  on  the  Exchange  here  and  was 
once  a  heavy  operator  and  made  big 
money,  but  his  reputation  was  never 
first-class  and  it  has  become  decidedly 
odorous  of  late  years  through  his  con- 
nection with  snide  stock  schemes  of 
one  kind  and  another.  But  he  has 
kept  out  of  jail  and  is  n't  a  person 
a   man  can   exactly  refuse   to   speak  to. 

He  worked  a  Napoleonic  confidence 
deal  in  grain  here,  some  five  or  six 
years  back,  and  came  within  an  ace  of 
cleaning  up  a  million  or  more  on  it ; 
but  the  fraud  was  discovered  and  the 
bu])ble  exploded,  leaving  him  beggared 
both    in    fortune    and     reputation.      He 


ill 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


ir,y 


had  tangled  a  lot  of  respectable  oper- 
ators up  in  the  scheme,  so  that  it  did 
not  look  so  very  bad  for  him  person- 
ally, and  he  escaped  prosecution.  Since 
then  he  has  figured  as  a  promoter, 
keeping   himself  in  the   shade. 

Parsons,  Polly's  father,  was  the  man 
who  discovered  and  defeated  his  fraud  ; 
and  the  story  goes  here,  that  in  re- 
venge, he  set  the  trap  into  which  Par- 
sons fell  and  lost  all  except  his  honor. 
Parsons  has  a  good  name  here  still,  I 
find,  among  the  brokers,  because  he 
made  an  honest  settlement,  although  it 
left  him  penniless  and  broken-spirited. 
It  is  strange  that  he  has  n't  come  to  see 
me.  I  tried  to  find  him  when  I  first 
but   he    was   always   somewhere 


came 


else,  and  when  I  went  to  Milwakee,  I 
left  a  note  for  him,  but  have  heard 
nothing.  I  shall  try  to  see  him  be- 
fore I  leave. 


I>;- 


Ml! 


56 


m  I 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


M 


,1 


"1  :  i 


I  find  Ketchuiu  has  a  wife  aud  some 
children  here,  and  that  he  does  n't  fig- 
ure as  a  Lothario  at  all  as  I  suspected. 
On  the  contrary,  he  is  quite  a  model  in 
his  domestic  relations — takes  his  family 
to  church  and  all  that,  and  is  a  shining 
light  in  the  Sunday-school  and  the  Y. 
M.  C.  A.  So  I  fancy  our  pretty  Polly 
is  in  no  great  danger  from  him.  It  is 
singular  though,  why  he  should  have 
engaged  the  daughter  of  a  man  whom 
he  must  hate,  as  his  confidential  clerk 
— and  at  such  a  preposterous  salary,  too. 
It  is  suspicious  ;  but  after  all,  it  may 
be  a  freak  of  kindness,  finding  the  man 
whose  ruin  he  has  planned  so  destitute. 
It  is  just  as  safe  to  take  the  charitable 
view  as  a^iy,  even  of  a  scamp.  Human 
motives  are  always  mixed. 

I  cannot  say  when  I  will  be  at 
home  ;    but    write     often,    directing     to 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


57 


Denver,    and    keep   a  brotherly   eye   on 
our  pretty  Polly.  Yours, 

Fitz-Mac. 

VI. 

Grand  Pacific  Hotel, 
Chicago,  April  9,  9  o'clock  P.  M. 

Dear  Warman  : — I  must  write  in 
great  haste,  for  in  an  hour  I  leave  for 
New  York.  It  is  quite  unexpected.  I 
expect  the  Milwaukee  party  here  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  to  go  with  me. 

In  all  probability  I  shall  not  be 
back  to  Denver  before  the  first  of  May, 
if  then, — for,  being  in  New  York,  I 
shall  probably  stop  and  attend  to 
some   other   matters. 

I  wrote  you  last  night,  and  now  I 
want  to  correct  the  impressions  of  that 
letter. 

When  does  one  ever  hear  the  last  word 
of  a   bad   story.     That   fellow   Ketch  urn 


II 


'!l 


m 


68 


rUK    SIlA'Kli    Qf'KKN. 


is  even  more  of  an  all-round  scoundrel 
than  I  thought.  I  have  heard  a  lot 
al)()ut  him  to-day ;  ran  upon  a  man 
who  was  his  head  book-keeper  and 
confidential  man  here  in  his  heyday, 
and  whom  he  rohbed,  as  he  has  every- 
body else  Avho  has  had  anything  to  do 
with  him.  I  was  out  looking  up  Par- 
sons among  the  brokers'  offices.  He  has 
been  a  sort  of  fly-about  these  last  years, 
into  this,  that,  and  every  little  pitiful 
scheme,  to  turn  a  dollar,  and  having  a 
desk  always  in  the  office  of  the  latest 
man  he  could  interest  in  his  projects  , 
so  he  is  about  as  hard  to  find  as  the 
proverbial  needle  in  the  hay-mow. 

Nobody  is  specially  interested  in 
keeping  track  of  him,  now  that  he  is 
down. 

Well,  in  my  hunt,  I  ran  upon  a  Mr. 
Filmore  who  told  me  where  he  boards 
— a   cheap   and   shal)by   place,  poor  fel- 


rriK    SILVER    QVKKN. 


59 


low.  He  was  not  there  ;  has  n't  been 
for  two  weeks  or  more.  Landlady  sur- 
mised he  had  gone  to  join  his  family 
somewhere  out  West — in  California,  she 
guessed— did  n't  know  when  he  would 
be  back  ;    did  n't  know  that  he  would 


ever  be  back.  Oh,  yes,  she  supposed 
he  would  be  back  some  time, — no,  he 
had  n't  left  any  address  to  have  his 
mail  forwarded.  The  purveyor  of  hash 
sujiposed  Mr.  Parsons  received   his   mail 


■ 


M 


]i 


60 


THE    SILVER    QVEKS. 


■ill 


at  Lis  office — he  certainly  did  not  re- 
ceive any  there.  Was  I  a  detective  ? 
Had  Mr.  Parsons  been  getting  into 
trouble  ?  Oh,  Cy,  the  miserj'^  of  being 
very  ])oor  after  having  been  very  rich  ! 
The  Lord  deliver  me  from  it !  Poor 
Parsons,  one  of  the  finest  and  proudest 
of  gentlemen,  to  be  spoken  of  in  such  a 
tenor  at  the  street  door  of  a  cheap 
boarding-house  ! 

Is  it  any  wonder  his  brave,  good 
little  girl  is  frantic  to  do  something 
to  help  him  onto  his  feet  again  and 
out  of  such  an   atmosphere  ? 

He  may  be  in  Colorado ;  and  if  he 
is,  you  may  be  called  upon  to  record 
the  sudden  death  of  that  scamp  Ketch- 
um,  any  day. 

I  returned  to  Mr.  Filmore's  office  to 
leave  a  note  with  him  for  Parsons, 
and  he  told  me  all  about  K.  The 
fellow   is   a    thorough     scamp     and    all 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


61 


his  faults  are  aggravated  ]>y  his  smooth 
and  oily  hypocrisy.  It  is  true  he  has  a 
family  lieie,  as  I  n  entioned  yesterday, 
and  that  he  maintains  them  in  a  show 
of  comfort  and  respectability  ;  l)ut  his 
wife  is  a  broken-hearted,  dispirited  creat- 
ure, whom  he  married  at  the  muzzle 
of  a  frantic  father's  gun.  He  drags  her 
to  church  to  keep  up  appearances  ;  but 
that  is  all  the  respect  or  civility  he 
shows  her.  When  he  was  rich  here,  he 
kept  a  blonde  angel  of  the  demi-monde 
in  swell  style,  with  her  car- 
riage and  all  that,  while  his 
wife  was  left  to  stump 
around  on  foot,  with  an  oc- 
casional excursion  in  com- 
pany with  the  hired  girl  and 
the  baby  on  the  street- cars 
of  a  Sunday  afternoon.  Filmore  says 
the  wretch  has  ruined  four  or  five 
poor  girls    in   succession,    who   came  to 


I 


M 


62 


TIIK    SUA' Kit    QJ'KKN. 


\P 


lit 


'.< 


iji 


■i  w 


III' 


It 


work  ill  liis  oftice,  and  started  them  out 
on  a  Hcji  <>f  sin. 

I  liojm  PjirHoii!^  liiw  gone  to  Coloriulo, 
8o  tlijit  lie  nuiy  know  just  where  his 
(laughter  is.  T  intended  to  gi>'e  him 
my  opinion  of  tlu^  matter  very  plainly, 
if  I  had  found  him. 

You  must  keep  a  kindly  eye  on  the 
poor  child,  Cy,  and  help  her  if  you 
can.  lloast  that  scoundrel  and  show  up 
his  rotten  record  and  his  swindling 
schejne,  if  he  gives  you  half  a  chance 
to  open  on  him.  Jump  him  any  way, 
and  don't  wait  for  a  special  provoca- 
tion. 

Filmore's  address — Stanley  R.  Filmore 
— is  room  199  Marine  Building,  Chi- 
cago, and  he  will  willingly  isupply  you 
with  facts  enough  from  the  man's  ne- 
farious record  to  drive  him  out  of  Col- 
orado with  his  swindling  mining 
schemes.       It     ought     to     be    done — of 


THE   SILVKU    (Jl'KKN. 


03 


course  only  if  the  mine  is  a  fake — for 
tliat  8ort  of  scaiuiw  and  swindlers  are 
the  ones  who  are  hringini^  mining  prop- 
ositions into  disrepute  in  the  East  and 
making  it  almost  impossible  to  raise 
money  for  legitimate  enterprises.  But 
I  must  close.  Can  you  read  this  wild 
scrawl  ?  Yours, 

FitzMac. 

VII. 

Creede,  Colo.,  April  13,  '03. 
,  Dear  Fitz  :— Your  letter  of  the  9th, 
in  which  you  hasten  to  undo  what  you 
did  for  Ketchum  in  the  preceding  let- 
ter, if  it  had  no  other  purpose,  was 
unnecessary.  You  can  never  make  me 
believe  that  a  man  who  eats  mashed 
potatoes  with  a  knife,  dips  his  soup 
towai'd  him  and  lets  his  trousers  trail 
in  the  mud,  has  been  brought  up  in 
respectable   society.      If    anything  more 


}  n 


(i4 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


1! 


* » 


^1 


;  ( 


waH  needed  to  convince  nie  tluit 
Ketch uni  was  a  shark,  it  was  sup- 
plied by  hliii  when  he  tohl  Wygant 
that  he  regai'ded  ''  advertising  as  un- 
professional and  unnecessary."  The 
newspapers,  lie  said,  did  more  harm 
than  good.  Now,  when  you  hear  a 
man  talk  that  way,  you  can  gamble 
that  he  is  working  the  shells  and  that 
his  game   won't   stand   airing. 

In  speaking  of  the  embarrassment  of 
becoming  very  poor  after  having  been 
very  rich,  you  amuse  me,  by  praying 
to  be  delivered  from  that  awful  condi- 
tion. Rest  easy,  my  good  fellow.  If 
you  follow  your  chosen  path,  that  of 
mixing  literature  with  mining,  you  will 
doubtless  be  independently  poor  the 
balance   of  your  days. 

Well,  Miss  Parsons  is  here.  She  is 
boarding  at  the  Albany.  The  Albany 
is  all   right.      It   is    the    best    place  in 


TIIK    SILVKIi    Ql'KKS. 


(I.-) 


tin;   gulcli  ;    hut,  of    couiHc,   you   n<*vcr 
know  wlio   is   going  to  occupy  tluj   next 
Hcut.      LuHt    night,   at  dinner,  the    \l(\\\ 
Tom   Uzzell,   the   city  editor  jind  Soapy 
sat    at   one   table  ;    a  murderer,  a  L'am- 
hler,    a   hand-painted    Hkirt-dancer     and 
a    Catholic     priest    held     another,   while 
Miss     Parsons,   l^illy   WckmIs,   the  prize- 
fighter,   English  Harry  and    T,  ate   wild 
duck    at   a   large   talde    near   the   stove. 
I   introduced   Harry,    who  is  an    estima- 
ble young  man,  belonging  to  one;  of  the 
best   families   in  Denver,  with  the   hope 
that    Miss  Parsons   might   have   an    op- 
portunity to   see   the   diffei'ence  between 
a   real   gentleman  and  that  social  lepei-, 
Ketchum.      After  dinner   I   told    Harry 
that    I   wanted    him     to   make    love  to 
Miss  Parsons. 

''But,  I  don't   love  her,"   says   he. 

"No  matter,"  says   I. 

"It's   wicked,"   says  he. 


66 


THE   aiLVKIi    QUEEN. 


m 


■t  ti 


m 


"  It's  right,"   says  I.      "  It  will   save 
her  from   a   life   of  misery." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  V  says 
he.  "If  it's  the  2)roper  thing  to  make 
love  to  a  sweet  young  woman  whom 
you  don't  love,  why  don't 
you   do  it  ?" 

I  told  him  that  I  was 
too  busy — that  I  had  n't 
any  love  that  I  was  not 
using — that  I  had  done 
my  share  in  that  line. 
Still  he  Avas  serious  ;  but 
finally  promised  to  be  a 
near  relative,  if  he  could  not  love  her. 
I  think  I  shall  open  an  agency  for 
the  protection  of  unprotected  girls.  I 
had  luncheon  at  Upper  Creed''  yester- 
day, and  was  shocked  when  Inez  Boyd 
came  in  with  fresh  drug-store  hair. 
Fitz,  she  is  not  so  beautiful  as  Miss 
Parsons  ;   but  she  is  in  greater  danger, 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


()7 


because  she  is  not  so  strong,  and  lias 
not  Lad  the  advantage  of  early  train- 
ing  as  Miss  Parsons   has. 

"Jimmie,"  said  I  to  the  little  devil 
this  morning,  "I  want  you  to  take  a 
bundle  of  papers  ;  go  up  the  gulch 
until  you  come  to  the  office  of  the 
Sure  Thing  Mining  Company  ;  go  in 
and  try  to  sell  a  paper.  You  may 
take  an  hour  each  day  for  this  and 
loaf  as  lonp-  as  you  care  to  in  the  office, 
unless  they   kick   you  out." 

"Sure  thing  they'll  do  that,"  said 
Jimmie. 

"  Stop !  Keep  an  eye  on  Mr. 
Ketchum,  and  tell  me  how  many  peo- 
ple are  working   in   the  office." 

Two  hours  later  Jimmie  came  in 
with  his  pockets  filled  with  silver. 
"Sold  all  my  papers,"  said  he, 
as  he  fell  over  the  coal  scuttle. 
"Ketchum    bought    'em    all   to  get    rid 


(38 


THE    SILVEli    QUEEN. 


of  me.  Guess  he  wanted  to  talk  to 
that  girl  he  had  in  the  office.  Say, 
she's  a  bute.  Must  got  'cr  in  Denver  ; 
they  don't  grow  like  that  in  dis  gulch. 
They  was  a  scrappin'  like  married 
people  when  I  went  in,  and  he 
wanted  to  throw  me  out.  Not 
on  your  life,  I  told  him  ;  I'm 
the  devil  on  the  Chronicle  and 
dat  gang' 11  burn  you  up  if  ye 
monkey   wid   me." 

"  What    were    they    quarreling 
about,  Jimmie  ?" 

"  O,  'bout  where  she  was  to 
room,  an'  he  told  her  she  could  sleep 
in  de  private  office ;  an'  you  ort  to 
see  her  then  !  Mama  !  but  she  did  lock 
up  his  forms  for  him  in  short  order. 
Then  she  said  she'd  go  home  ;  but  she'd 
like  to  see  the  mine  'fore  she  worked 
fur  stock.  She's  no  chump.  Say,  he 
aint  got   no  mine." 


THE    SILVER    Ql'EES. 


r)0 


"  You  think  not,  Jiinmie  ? ''  I  said  to 
encourage   him. 

"Naw.  I  went  over  to  the  Candle 
office  and  Lute  Johnson's  goin'  to  cre- 
mate 'em  nex'   issue." 

I  leai-ned  to-day  tliat  Ketchum  had 
been  accepting  money  from  tenderfeet, 
promising  to  issue  stock,  as  soon  as  the 
stock-l^ooks  can  be  printed.  I  learn 
also  that  the  Sure  Thine:  Mining  Com- 
pany  has  no  legal  existence  ;  that  the 
Sure  Thing  claim  belongs  to  Ketchum 
personally. 

The  camp  continues  to  produce  sor- 
row and  silver  at  the  regular  ratio  of 
sixteen  to  one.  Old  Hank  Phelan,  of 
St.  Joe,  died  on  the  sidewalk  in  front 
of  the  Orleans  Club  last  night.  I 
showed  my  ignorance  by  asking  a  gang 
who  stood  round  the  dead  man,  at  the 
coroner's  inquest,  who  the  distinguished 
dead  might  be. 


i  ■' 


if 


^  t ' 


i 


\ 


ll  i 


70 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


M  m 


"  Say,  pardner,"  said  one  of  the 
spoi'ty  l)oys,  "  I  reckon  you  don't  ever 
look  in  a  paper.  Don't  know  Hank 
Plielan,  as  licked  l)ig  Ed.  Brown,  terror 
of  Oklahoma?"  And  they  all  went  in- 
side and  left  me  to  grope  my  way  out 
of  the  dense  ignorance  that  had 
settled  ahoiit  me. 

Bob  Ford  and  Joe  Palmer, 
with  a  pair  of  forty  ■  five's, 
closed  all  the  business  houses 
and  put  the  camp  to  bed  at 
9  :  30,  one  night  last  week.  In 
an  excited  efPort  to  escaj^e,  the 
New  York  Sun  man  and  the  city  editor 
broke  into  the  dormitory  of  the  Hotel 
Beebee,  whei'e  the  help  slept,  and  two 
of  the  tal)le  girls  who  had  been  pro- 
tecting against  them,  jumped  out  of  a 
window  into  the  river. 

A    man  Avas    killed   by   a    Avoman    in 
Upper  Creede  the  other  night. 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN' 


71 


The  City  Marshal,  Captain  Liglit, 
concluded  that  Red  McCann  was  a 
menace  to  good  government  and  so  re- 
moved him.  His  fiinei'al,  which  oc- 
currred  last  Sunday,  was  well  attended. 
There  was  some  talk  next  day  l)y  Mc- 
Cann's  friends.  They  even  went  so  far 
as  to  hold  an  inquest ;  but  Cap  was 
well  connected,  being  a  brother-in-law 
to  Sapolio,  and  he  was  spirited  away. 

The  C/tronide  is  not  on  a  payino* 
basis  yet.  The  twelve  hundred  dollars 
has  disappeared  ;  and  I  have  transferred 
my  personal  savings  here  to  pay  the 
printers.  The  schedule  is  the  same  and 
I  am  working  for  nothing.  We  have 
had  a  strike.  Yesterday  was  a  pay  day 
and  Freckled  Jimmie,  the  devil,  went 
out  at  G  p.  M.  Jimmie  had  l)een  Avith 
us  through  all  these  days  of  doubt  and 
danger,  and  when  he  failed  to  show  U|» 
this    morning,    I    confess  to  a  feelin<^  of 


r''n 


-•'i  ! 


•I 


i 

ft  I 


\i         S!sS 


72 


TJIE    SILVER    QIEEN. 


loneliness.  Another  boy  dropped  in  to 
take  Jimniie's  place  ;  but  he  was  not 
freckled  and  I  doubted  him.  About 
10  the  new  boy  went  to  the  post-office. 
lie  never  came  back.  I  remarked  that 
it  was  not  becoming  in  the  editor  of  a 
great  daily  to  sit  and  pine  for  a  boy  ; 
and  yet,  I  could  not  shake  off  that 
feeling  of  neglect  that  came  to  me  in 
the  early  morning  and  stayed  all  day. 
We  expected  the  devil  to  call  upon 
us,  looking  to  a  compromise  ;  but  he 
failed  to  call.  Along  in  the  p.  m.- 
ness,  we  sent  a  committee  to  wait  upon 
Jimmie  and  ask  him  to  visit  the  office. 
lie   came    in,  chewing  a   willow  bough. 

"  Well,  Jimmie,"  I  began,  "  How 
would  it  suit  you  to  come  back  to 
work  at  a  raise   of   a  dollar   a  week  ? " 

"Well,"  said  the  striker,  "I  don't 
kere  ef  I  do  or  not  ;  but  ef  you'll  let 
it    lap    back,   over    last   week,    I'll   go 


I- 


THE    SILVEii    QUEEN. 


73 


you.  But  mind,  you  don't 
call  me  '  Freck '  no  more. 
My  name's  Jimmie  from  now 
on,  see?"  Jimmie  is  work- 
ing. 

Hope    I    may  he    able    to 
give  you  some  good  news  in  | 
my  next.         So-long, 

Cy  Warman. 


VIII. 


TELEGRAM. 

New  York,  April  13,  1892. 
The  young  person's  paternal  is  here 
and  in  great  luck  again.  He  will  wire 
funds  to-day  in  your  care,  to  make 
sure  of  not  falling  into  wrong  hands. 
Deliver  message  to  person  yourself,  to 
avoid  mistake.  Look  sharp.  Letter  by 
first  mail  explains  all.  Address  Hoff- 
man House.  Fitz-Mao. 


m 


Jil 


74 


rH£    SILVEli    QUEEN. 


IX. 


Hoffman  House, 

New  YoiiK,  April  13. 
Dear  Waiiman  : — The    most   surpris- 
ing  thing  in  life  is  the  number  of  sur- 
prises  one  encounters.     Whom  should  I 
meet     at    breakfast     here   this  morning, 
but   Tom    Parsons  —  no    longer 
the  ])roken  and  rejected  man  I 
have    pictured   to    you,   but 
flushed    with    success    and 
swimming  on  top  of  Hope's 
effulgent  tide. 

Some  New  York  brok- 
ers who  had  known  him  in 
better  days  and  who  had  con- 
fidence in  his  sagacity  and  nerve  desir- 
ing to  inaugurate  a  l>ig  grain  deal  in 
Chicago,  sent  for  him  to  come  and  steer 
the  game.  He  was  as  cool  to  their 
propositions  as  if   he  had  had  a  million 


THE    SrrA'k'll    QrrKKX. 


<;> 


to  put  in,  and  dcnianded  a  good  per- 
centage of  the  profits.  Tliey  agreed  to 
liis  terms.  lie  lias  stood  behind  the 
curtain  liere  for  three  weeks,  and  in  tlie 
name  of  a  deah'r  here  not  sup[M)sed  to 
be  strong,  lias  engineered  the  corner 
and  led  the  Chicago  fellows  into  the 
net.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  money 
up,  and  the  weak  firm  which  the  Chi- 
cago operators  expected  to  cinch  proved 
to  be  only  a  stool-pigeon,  for  a  very 
strong  syndicate. 

They  settled  yesterday,  and  Tom^s 
share  of  the  profits  is  a  little  over  a 
hundred  thousand.  Wliat  a  frc^ak  of 
fortune  !  Though  outwai'dly  perfectly 
cool,  I  could  see  that  Parsons  is  deeply 
affected  by  this  turn  of  the  tide,  which 
puts  him  on  his  feet  again.  It  is  noth- 
ing but  gailhlding  after  all,  and  his 
mind  is  flushed  and  warped  by  the  sud- 
den   success.     lie   is  full    of   great  proj- 


■ 


if 
If,- 


hi  I 


70 


THE    SILVKli    QVKEN. 


ccts  to  capture  inillioiiH  again.  No 
<l<)ul)t  i\\v  Hiu'fcss  of  tills  <U*al  gives  him 
a  big  pull  licre,  and  lie  is  sueli  a  bold 
and  ex[)erieiieed  operator  that  no  onc^ 
can  say  Avliat  may  not  happen.  But 
this  insatiat(i  passion  for  high  and  reck- 
less play  has  injured  him,  mentally  and 
morally.  He  confessed  to  m(^  after  we 
went  to  his  room,  that  lie  had  not  once 
thought  of  his  family  during  the  three 
weeks  he  has  been  here, — that  is,  not  of 
their  condition  and  their  needs.  Think 
of  that,  in  the  most  tender  of  husbands, 
the  most  careful  of  fathers !  I 
put  his  daughter's  position  at  him 
flat-footed  ;  but  it  did  n't  alarm 
him  a  bit.  "  I'll  trust  that  girl," 
he  said,  "to  take  care  of  herself 
anywhere  on  top  of  earth  or  in 
the  mines  under  th^  earth." 
*' Would  you  trust  her  to  work,  live 
and  lodge   in  the   slums   of    Chicago   or 


K' 


TIIK    mLVKli    (JL'KKN. 


<  i 


down  here  nlxnit  Five  Points  in  Ni'W 
York?"  Would  you  want  to  (*xi)os(» 
luT  to  sucli  an  cxistcnci*  i  Ks|K'cially  if 
she  wa.s  likely  to  encounter  in  these 
placen  a  few  refined  men  of  reckless 
ha])its,  wlio  would  be  sure  to  misunder- 
stand her  position  and  whose  very 
sympathy  would  be  her  greatest  dan- 
ger ?  Well,  that's  what  Creede  is, 
Tom,"  said  I,  "  if  you  just  add  the 
physical  exposure  of  a  mountain  cli- 
mate in  a  camp  where  the  best  house 
is  no  better  than  a  shanty  built  of  wet, 
unseasoned  lumber." 

He  promised  me  he  would  telegraph 
money  to  her  to-day  and  advise  her  to 
go  to  her  mother.  He  laughed  at  my 
fears  about  Ketchum's  designs,  and  said 
he  would  trust  his  girl  against  a  dozen 
Ketchums  ;   but    he   vras   not    insensible 

that    the    scamp   might 


to    the    danger 
scandal 


br 


ing 


on 


er,   an 


d    I 


wor 


ked 


78 


Tine    SIIA'KU    (JCKKS. 


11 


It ' 


liiiii  on  that  liiir  till  lie  jiroiiii.siHl  to 
go  I'ii^lit  jiwny  and  ti'lcgrapli  iiKHicy  to 
licr.  I  i^avt^  him  your  a<l«li't'SH  and  hv 
will  send  ill  your  care,  to  prevent  tht^ 
possihility  of  his  nu'ssapi;(*  falling  into 
K's  hands.  That  is  why  I  hav(^  just 
wired  you.  I  can  realize  that,  even  in 
Creede,  it  will  eoni})ronns(^  the  girl  to 
luiv(;  any  eonn<'etion  with  that  Sure 
Thing  outHt,  and  expose  lier  clniracter 
to  suspicion.  Before  this  reaches  you, 
no  doubt,  she  will  have  gone  liome, 
and  I  shall  liave  no  further  occasion 
to  write  you  about  lier  ;  but  still,  if 
you  have  an  idle  hour,  you  may  write 
nie  here  and  tell  nie  hoNv  Ketchum  is 
working  his  game.  While  I  have  no 
further  anxiety  about  Miss  P.,  I  con- 
fess to  a  curiosity  to  know  if  the  anx- 
iety I   did   have   Avas  well  grounded. 

How    are   you     getting    on    with    the 
paper  ?     Every  one  wants  to  hear  about 


77/ A"    SlLVKli    l^H  h'KS. 


7\) 


Crei'dc  licH',  himI  I  lu'licvc  you  onihl 
get  up  a  ])ig  Hu))Meri|)ti<)U  li.st  in  Wall 
street  if  you  luul  a  canvasser  in  the 
field.  Everybody  luis  tiie  most  exag- 
gerated notions  of  the  extent  and  rich- 
ness of  tlie  cani}),  and  tlie  ne\vs|)ai)er 
people  are  as  wild  as  the  rest.  They 
liave  the  most  childish  notions — I  mean 
the  common  run  of  men  only, 
of  course  —  as  to  the  condi- 
tion of  silver  mininir. 
Their  idea  of  a  bonanza 
is  a  place  where  pure 
silver  is  quarried  out  ^S 
like  building  stone.     You     ';!  ^jj^ 


could  n't  possibly  tell  them 
any  fake  story  of  the  richness  of  mines 
they  would  n't  believe.  In  fact,  you 
can  make  them  believe  anything  else 
easier  than  the  truth.  This  fact  hurts 
our  business  dreadfully,  too,  in  the  East 
and  creates  a  prejudice  against  the  use 


80 


THE    aiLVER    QUEEN. 


^  if 

1^ 


of  silver  as  money.  It  also  liel2)s  tlie 
mining  shar2)s  wlio  are  working  frauds. 
I  shall  liave  a  curiosity  to  see  how  you 
roast  tliat  snide  scheme  of  Ketclium  & 
Co.  Don't  fail  to  send  uw,  the  paper. 
You  may  address  me  here  for  two 
weeks.  Affectionately  yours, 


Fitz-Mac. 


X. 


Ckeede,  Colo.,  April  20,  '92. 

Deah  FiTz  : — Yes,  the  surprises  in 
this  life  are  surprising.  We  opened  a 
couple  of  surprise  packages  here  last 
r>  g\it 

I  was  surprised  the  other  day  when 
Miss  P.  came  into  the  office  and  asked 
my  advice.  Until  lately  she  has  en- 
deavored to   avoid   me. 

I  think  Ilariy  has  been  watering  my 
stock  with  the  lady,  and  I  am  pleased 
to   note  that  these  young  people  occupy 


TUK    iSILVEi:    i^HKhJX. 


81 


a   table  at   tlu?    Alhaiiy   that   seats    two. 
Last    Sunday,    I    drifted   into    the    tent 
wliere  they  liold    sacred    services  ;    it    is 
called   the    Tabernacle.       Miss     Parsons 
was    peiiorniing    on    a    little   cot- 
tage organ,  ^vhile  TIarry 
stoo<l     near    her    and 
sang,      "  There's 
a    Land    that    is 
Fairer     than 
lay." 
q^      Ah,  yes,  in 
the  sweet  ]>y- 
and-by  !      Is 
there  anything  that  holds  so  much  for  the 
trusting   soul  ?      In  the  sun-kissed  ovei'- 
yonder,  there     is     rest    for    the    weary. 
Always  full  and  running    over,  there   is 
no  false  bottom  in  the  sweet  by-and-by. 

Hope  si)riii{>:s  eteriiul 

In   tiie  liunuin  breast, 
FaiDi  to  push  the  buttou— 

God  will  do  the  rest. 


M 


i  ■ 


82 


THE    SHA'KIi    Ql  KES. 


ft!' 


li 


I  ]\',i\v  Ix'ii'uii  to  Jiopo  tliat  IL'iriy 
will  1()V(^  Miss  P.'ti'soiis.  AVHjjit  lit^  has 
,  (lone  f(H'  her  jilrcady  lias  Lad  a  good 
effect.  His  society  is  Letter  for  lier, 
just  as  the  suiishiiie  is  better  for  the 
flowei's  than  the  atni(>s2)here  of  a  damp, 
dark  cellar,  where  lizards  creej)  o'er  the 
aweatini^  stones. 

Plenty  of  fellows  here  would  love 
lier,  but  for  their  own  amusement.  Not 
so  ^vith  Ilany.  He  is  as  serious  as 
though  he  were  in  reality  an  English- 
man. Yesterday  the  young  lady  was 
very  much  worried  over  a  note  she 
had  received,  and  she  showed  it  to  me. 
It  ended  thus  : 


I  ill 


Go,  leave   me  in  my  misery, 

And  when  thou   art  alone, 
God  grant  that  thou  may'st  pine  for  me. 

As  I  for  thee  have  pone. 

It    was    signed    "  Harry,"    and    that's 
what  hurt  her  heai't.     I  told  her  it  was 


THK    Str.VKli    Qf'EKN. 


8a 


Tnl)(H-'s    writing  ;     tliat    his    first    luiiiic. 
was    Harry,  iiiul  she  was  ghiil. 

As  I  write  tliis,  I  look  across  tln^ 
street  to  the  l)ar])er-shop  where  Inez 
Boyd  is  having  lier  hair  cut  short.  Ye 
Gods  !  faded  and  then  ani[)utated  !  3o 
will  l)e  her  pure  young  life. 
Already  the  frost  of  sin  has 
settled  around  lier  soul. 
Youth's  bloom  lias  been 
blighted ;     her     cheeks    are 

hollow  ;      lier      eyes      have      ^ 

a    vacant,     far-away     look,  f '  j|if^||[f  (! 

Her     mind,     mayha[),    goes  ji' 

back  to  her  happy  home  in 

Denver,  where   she  used   to 

kneel  at  night  and  say,  ''Now  I  lay  me." 

She  has  left  her  place  at  the  restau- 
rant, and  with  her  partner,  that  "  break 
away  "  creature  with  the  yellow  hair,  is 
livinc:  in  a  cotta!j:e,  takini^  their  meals 
at  the  Albany. 


V  ''  •.''^t-  'i.'"'^ 


i^ 


84 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


M 


I  inuHt  tell  you  now  what  Miss  Par- 
sons wanted  advice  about.  She  had 
very  little  to  do  in  the  office,  and  if 
she  would  act  as  cashier  in  the  restau- 
•  rant  at  rneal  time,  two  hours  morning, 
noon  and  night,  Mr.  Sears  would  allow 
her  ten  dollars  a  week,  and  her  board, 
or  t^v^enty  dollars  a  ^veek,  in  all.  From 
*.)  to  11,  and  2  to  4,  she  could  attend 
to  Mr.  Ketchum's  correspondence. 
There  was  still  another  job  open. 
They  wanted  an  operator  across  the 
street  at  the  Western  Union  from  8 
p.  M.  until  12,  Avhen  the  regular  night 
man  came  on  to  take  the  Chronicle 
press  report.  If  she  could  take  that,  it 
would  make  her  cash  income  twenty 
dollars  above  her  board. 

I  asked  her  what  she  intended  to  do 
from  midnight  till  morning.  She 
smiled,  good-naturedly,  and  said  she 
thought  she  would  have  to  sleep    some, 


THE    SILVER    (Jl'KKX. 


85 


otherwise  she  would  have  asked  for  a 
job,  folding  papers. 

I  told  her  that  it  was  all  very  proper 
if  she  could  stand  the  lonjj:  hours.  She 
said  she  could  always  get  an  ]i()ur\s 
sleep  after  her  midday  meal,  and  in 
that  wa}^  she  would  l)e  ahle  to  hold  it 
down  for  a  while.  I  ventured  to  ask 
why  she  failed  to  reckon  her  "  Sure 
Thing"  salary  when  counting  her  cash 
income.  "  Oh,"  she  had  forgotten. 
"  Mr.  Ketchum  told  her  she  would  hjive 
to  take  her  pay  in  stock."  I  did  not 
tell  her  how  w^orthless  that  stock  was, 
bat  I  determined  to  have  Mr.  Ketchum 
attended  to. 

Yestei'day  a  cpiiet  caucus  was  held 
in  the  rear  of  Banigan's  saloon,  at 
which  a  committee  of  seven  was  ap- 
pointed to  wait  upon  Mr.  Ketchum 
and  inquire  into  the  affaii's  of  the 
Sure  Thing    Mining   and   Milling    Com- 


mu 


t.ff 


mi;' 


t\. 


8G 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


pany,  the  statement  having  been  made 
in  the  morning  Chronicle  that  the  com- 
pany had  no  legal  existence. 

Here  come  the  surprises.  In  accord- 
ance witli  the  arrangements  made  by 
the  caucus  at  Banigan's,  the  committee 
called  last  night  at  the  office  of  the 
Sure  Thing  Mining  Company  and  asked 


rriWpnTrETi. 


for  Mr.  Ketchum.  That  gentleman 
showed  how  little  he  knew  of  camp 
life,  by  ordering  them  from  the  room. 
The  spokesman  told  him  to  sit  down 
and   be  quiet.      He  would   not  be   com- 


THE    SILVER    Ql'EEN. 


87 


.  \t 


maiuled  to  sit  down  in  his  own  house, 
he  said,  as  he  jumped  upon  a  tal>le 
and  began  to  orate  on  the  freedom  of 
America.  At  that  moment  one  of  tlie 
party,  who  is  called  "  Mex "  because  he 
came  from  New  Mexico,  shied  a  rope 
across  the  room.  It  hovered  around 
near  the  canvas  ceiling  for  a  second, 
then  settled  around  the  neck  of  the 
orator.  "Come  off  the  perch,"  said 
Mex,  as  he  gave  the  rope  a  i)ull  and 
yanked    the    speculator   from  the   talkie. 

That  did  the  business.  After  that 
the  operator  only  begged  that  his  life 
l)e   spared. 

"Now  sir,"  said  the  leader,  "you 
will  oblige  us  by  answering  every 
question  })ut  to  you.  If  you  tell  the 
truth  you  may  come  out  all  right,  if 
vou   lie   vou  will   be  taking  chances." 

"We  are  the  executive  committee  of 
the     Gamblers'     Protective      Association 


If  I 


88 


77/ a;    HILVKH    QVKKN. 


and  we  are  here  to  investigate  your 
game.  We  recognize  tlie  right  of  thti 
dealer  to  a  liberal  ])ercentage,  but  we 
are  o})pos(Ml  to  sure  thing  men  and 
sandbafjtifers." 

"Is  th(^  Sure  Thing  Mining  Company 
incorporated  under  the  laws  of  Colo- 
rado ? " 

»  Well— it^s— un—  " 

"  Stop  sir,''  said  the  leader.  "  These 
questions  will  l)e  put  to  you  so  that 
you  can  answer  yes  or  no.  I  will  say 
further  that  the  committee  will  know 
when  you  tell  the  truth,  so  there's  a 
hunch  for  you  an'  you  better  play  it, 
see  ?" 

"  Is  the  Sure  Thing  Mining  Company 
incorporated  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  have  taken 
mojiey  on  account  of  stock  to  be  is- 
sued ? " 


THE    SILVKIi    QUKE^\ 


89 


"Well,— I  Imve." 

"  Stop  ! '' 

**Ye8  sir,  it  is  true." 

"Have  you  paid  your  stenographer?" 

"Yes  sir." 

"What  in?" 

"  Stock."' 

"How  many  claims  do  you  own  and 
what   are  they    called,   where  located  ? " 

uQj^e— Sure  Thing.  Bachelor  Mount- 
ain." 

"  Shipped  any  ore  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Any  in  sight  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Ever  have  any  assay  ? " 

"  No." 

"ThatUl   do." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  leader,  "You 
have  heard  the  questions  and  answers, 
all  in  favor  of  haugin'  this  fellow  say 
'  aye.'  " 


00 


27/ A,'    SlLVKli    QIKKN. 


Nil 


1!^ 


"Contrary    '  ii<>;  " 

Three  to  tliree  ;  tlie  vote  is  a  tie.  T 
will  vote  witli  tlie  '  iioeH '  we  will  not 
liani^  liini. 

"All  in  favor  of  turning  liini  loose 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  Bad  Lands 
say   '  aye.' " 

"  Carried,  unanimously." 

"Mr.    Ketchuin,   I  congratulate   you." 

All  this  took  place  in  Upper  Creede, 
and  al)out  the  time  the  committee  were 
escorting  Ketchum  down  through  the 
gulch,  Kadish  Bula,  the  superintendent 
of  the  Bachelor,  rushed  into  the  West- 
ern Union  office  an<l  handed  a  disjiatch 
to  Miss    Parsons,  asking  her  to  rush  it. 

After  sending  the  message.  Miss  Par- 
sons came  to  my  office  where  Harry 
and  I  were  enjoying  a  quiet  chat, 
in  which  the  two  young  women  in 
whom  I  have  become  so  interested, 
played  an  important   part. 


TIIK    SILVKli    i^rKKS'. 


91 


'' T  hvif  your  jhh'iIom/'  slic  said  witli 
a  pretty  l>lusli  wlicn  hIk'  ojk'IkmI  tlu* 
door.     "  I  tbotii^lit  you   wen*  alone/' 

Harry  was  a))out  to  leave  when  she 
asked    him   to  remain. 

With  a  graeeful  little  jump  she 
landed  on  the  desk  in  front  of   me,  and 

t"Vr"Vt4  i'^  '""-■  . -| 

MOKNINCi       L||M      -     III 


looking   me    straight    in   the     face    she 
said : 

"  I  want    to  ask    you  a  few  questions 


,.^.. 


s^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Photographic 

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WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14SS0 

(716)S72-4S03 


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1>2 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


and  I  want  you  to  answer  me  truth- 
fully." 

"Is  the  Sure  Thing  Mining  Company 
any  good  ? " 

"  No,"  said  I,  and  she  never   flinched. 

" Is  Ketchums  location  of  the  Sure 
Thinjr  claim  a  valid  one  ?  " 

"That  I  cannot  answer,  for  I  don't 
know,"  said  I. 

"Do  you  think  Mr.  Bula  of  the 
Bachelor  would  know  ? "  wtis  her  next 
question. 

We  both  agreed  that  he  ought  to  be 
excellent  authority  on  locations  in  gen- 
eral, and  especially  good  in  this  case, 
as  theirs  was  an  adjoining  property." 

"How,  and  when,  can  a  claim  be  re- 
located ? "  she  asked  with  a  steady  look 
in  my  face. 

I  asked  her  to  wait  a  moment,  and  1 
called  Mr.  Vaughan.  I  go  to  him  for 
everything  that  I  fail  to  find  in  the 
dictionary.  ^       : 


i  ( 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


93 


\ 


In  a  very  few  moments  the  expert 
explained  to  the  young  lady  that  a 
claim  located  in  '00  upon  which  no  as- 
sessment work  was  done  in  '91,  was 
open  for  relocation  in  '92. 

That  was  exactly  what  she  wanted  to 
know,  she  said,  as  she  shot  out  of  the 
door  and  across  the  street  to  the  tele- 
graph office. 

Before  we  had  time  to  ask  each  other 
what  she  meant,  a  half  dozen  citizens 
walked  through  the  open  door. 

*'We  have  just  returned  from  Wason, 
where  we  went  with  Ketchum,"  said 
the  leader. 

"His  game  is  dead  crooked,  and  we 
told  him  to  duck,  and  we  want  to  ask 
about  his  typewriter,  an'  see  'f  she's 
got   any   dough." 

I  explained  that  Miss  Parsons  was 
across  the  street,  working  in  the  tele- 
graph office. 


14 


77/ A,"    SlIAKli    QIKKS. 


"  Miss  riirsoiis,"  said  the  leader  as  he 
entered  the  offiee,  *'  we  have  just 
escorted  your  euiphiyer  out  of  camp, 
and  I  reckon  we  put  you  out  of  a  job  ; 
we  want  to  scpiare  ourselves  with  you." 
"  Oil,  Vm  all  right,"  she  said,  glad 
to  know   that    they  had  n't   hanged   the 

poor  devil.  **  I  am 
working  half  time  at 
the  restaurant  and  un- 
til midnight  here.'' 

Without  saying  a 
word,  the  leader  held 
out  his  hand  to  one  of 
the  men  who  dropped 
a  yellow  coin  into  it, 
another  did  the  same, 
and  before  she  knew 
what  it  meant,  the 
spokesman  stacked  seven  tens  upon  her 
table,  said  good-night,  and  they  left  the 
room. 


\    • 


77/ A"    SiLVEIi    QIKKS. 


!>") 


"  Will  you  wiuk  for  mt*  for  an  liour 
or  so,"  said  the  girl  as  the  night  man 
entered  the  offiee.  Of  course  he  would, 
but  lie  was  disappointed.  His  life  in 
the  camp  had  been  a  lonely  one  till 
this  beautiful  woman  came  to  work  in 
the  office.  He  had  dropped  in  two 
hours  ahead  of  time  just  to  live  in  the 
sunshine  of  her  presence. 

"  There's  a  tip  for  you/'  she  said  as 
she  flipped  the  top  ten  from  the  stack 
of  yellows  in  front  of  the 
operator,  dropped  the  other 
six  into  her  hand-bag  I 
and  jumped  out  into 
the  night. 

"Here  I  am  again," 
she    laughed    as    she 
opened    my    door.     "  I    want 
you  to  put  that  in  your  safe 
till  morning  ; "   and   she    planked  sixty 
dollars  in  gold,  down  on  my  desk. 


iK> 


TIIK    SILVER    ijUEKN. 


"  BlfMS  you;  Miss  Parsonn,"  Huid  I, 
"  we  don't  keep  such  a  thing.  We  al- 
ways owe  tlie  other  fellow,  but  I'll 
give  it  to  Vaughan,  he  does  n't 
drink." 

"I  want  you  and  Harry  to  go  with 
me,"  she  said,  "  and  ask  no  questions. 
Put  on  your  overcoats,  there  are  three 
good   horses  waiting  at  the  door." 

In  thirty  minutes  from  that  time,  our 
horses  were  toiling  up  the  Last  Chance 
trail,  and  in  an  hour,  we  stood  on  the 
summit  of  Bachelor,  eleven  thousand 
feet   above   the  sea. 

The  scene  was  wondrously  beautiful. 
Below,  adown  the  steep  mountain -side, 
lay  the  long,  dark  tra  leading  to  the 
gulch  where  the  arc  lights  glearijed  on 
the  trachyte  cliffs.  Around  a  bend  in 
the  valley,  came  a  silvery  stream — the 
broad  and  beautiful  Rio  Grande,  its  crys- 
tal   ripples   gleaming  in  the  soft  light 


„ / 


THE    SIlA'EIi    QVKKS. 


1)7 


of  a  midiiiglit  moon.  Away  to  the  east, 
above,  beyoud  the  smaller  mountains, 
the  marble  crest  of  the  Sani're  de 
Christo  stood  up   above  the  world. 


..    .    'V-  —   •*. 


■  *     \?^^ 


^'./^      ■    _v-^^^>K'^-¥ 


Turning  from  this  wondrous  pictures  I 
saw    the    horses  with    their    riders    just 


98 


77/ a;    SlLVKJi    iJl'KKX. 


entering  n  narrow  trail  tliat  lay  through 
an  aHpen  grove  in  the  direction  of  the 
Bachelor  mine.  Harry  had  secured  a 
board  from  the  Bachelor  shaft-house 
and  was  driving  a  stake  on  the  Sure 
Thing  claim  when  I  arrived. 

"  So  this  is  what  you  are  up  to 
Miss  Parsons,'^  raid  I,  taking  in  the 
situation  at   a  glance." 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  "I  have  written 
my  name  on  that  stake  and  I  propose 
to   put   men   to   work  to-morrow." 

It  was  just  midnight  when  we 
reached  the  telegraph  office,  and  Miss 
Parsons  showed  ns  the  telegram  which 
Mr.   Bula  had   sent :  it  read  *.  r 

^^  John  Herrick, 

Denver  Club,  Denver: 
Got  Amethyst  vein.     Sure   Thing  can 
be  bought   for   one  thousand,  or  can  re- 
locate   and     fight     them  ;     belongs      to 
Ketchum.     Answer."  ' 


l! 


;   / 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


09 


"  Well,"  said  Harry,  "  you're  all 
right." 

"  Now,"  said  Miss  Persons,  "  I  want 
to  find  Mr.  Ketchuni  and  give  hirn  a 
check  for  one  thousand  and  get  a  bill 
of  sale  or  something  to  show." 

We  explained  that  Ketchum  was  at 
that  time  walking  in  the  direction  of 
Wagon  Wheel  Gap.  Further,  that  un- 
less she  had  that  amount  of  money 
in  the  bank,  she  would  be  doing  a 
serious  thing  to   give   a  check. 

''Ah,  but  I  have,"  she  said  with  a 
smile,"  as  she  pulled  a  bank-book  from 
her  desk.  "My  father  wired  a  thousand 
dollars  to  the  Miners'  and  Merchants' 
Bank  for  me  a  few  days  ago  ;  the  tele- 
gram notifying  me  it  was  there,  came 
in  your  care,  and  I  must  apologize  for 
not  having  told  you  sooner,  but  I  was 
afraid  you  might  ask  me  to  give  up  my 
place,  if  you  learned  how  rich  I  was." 


100 


27/ A'    SILVKlt    QUKKN. 


''You  aro  all  right,  Miss  Parsons," 
said  I,  "and  I  congratulates  you — but 
tliere  is  no  excuse  for  you  wanting  to 
give  that  scamp  a  tliousand  dollars." 

"  Then  I  must  ask  another  favor  of 
you,"  she  said.  "  I  want  ten  men  to  go 
to  work  on  tlie  Sure  Thing  to-morrow." 

At  my  request,  Harry  promised  to 
have  the  men  at  work  by  nine  o'clock, 
and  as  I  write  this  I  can  hear  the  blasts 
and  see  the  white  smoke  puflfiing  from 
the  Sure  Thing  claim.  Just  now  I  see 
Harry  and  the  "  Silver  Queen"  coming 
down  the  trail.  They  are  riding  this 
way  ;  Harry  is  holding  a  piece  of  rock 
in  his  left  hand  ;  they  are  talking  about 
it,  and  they  both  look  very  happy.  Aye, 
verily,  the  surprises  are  surprising;  hope 
springs  eternal. 

Good -by, 

Cy  Warm  an. 


THE    SlIA'Kll    Ql'KKS. 


101 


XL 

Hoffman  IIorsK, 
New  Yohk,  April  27,  '1>2. 
My  Deau  Cy  : — Your  last   letter   is  a 
daisy.     I  read  it  with  all  the  interest  of 
a  novel. 

What  a  magic  camp  Creede  must  be, 
after  all  !  It  was  manly  in  those  vigi- 
lantes who  hustled  Ketdium  out  of 
Qj  camp  so  unceremoniously  to  treat 
our   little    friend,   Polly,   so    gener- 

so  delicately — 
characteristic  of 

She  is  a  cour- 
ageous and  ca- 
pable girl,  is 
n't  she  ?  —  her 
quickness  of 
wit  in  jumping 
that  Sure  Thing 
claim  shows  it. 


102 


THK   8ILVEH    QUKKN. 


Fm  gliul  you  like  her,  and  I  knew 
you  would,  if  you  got  to  know  tlie 
quick  and  courageous  spirit  that  is  in 
her.  She  did  n't  waste  a  day  crying 
over  spilt  milk  when  her  pap  busted 
and  all  the  case  and  luxuries  and  adu- 
lations that  surround  a  rich  man's 
daughter  vanished  from  about  her  like 
dew  before  the  sun,  but  just  jumped 
in  and  went  to  learning  how  to  earn 
her  own  living  and  help  take  care  of 
the  family. 

Would  n't  it  be  romantic,  though, 
if  that  mine  should  really  prove  a 
bonanza! — I  declare  I  get  excited  think- 
ing about  it.  I  suppose  there  is  act- 
ually a  chance  that  it  may,  since  it  is 
on  the  same  vein-^-or  is  supposed  to  be — 
as  the  Amethyst  mine.  Would  n't  that 
be  too  good !  How  lucky  that  she  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  telegraph  office 
when  that  dispatch  was  sent !     And  oh, 


THE   SiLVKR    QUKKS. 


103 


say,  you  and  Hurry,  ain't  you  tlu* 
dandy  Hpan  to  liavi^  Huch  a  pretty  girl 
as  Polly  in  your  care — and  put 
there  hy  yourn  confidingly,  don't 
forget.  No,  don't  you  (hfve  forget,  for 
you  would  never  liave  known  Polly 
but  for  me,  and  Harry  would  n't  Inivo 
got  acquainted  with  her  probably,  but 
for  you.  ?t  is  lucky  I  happened  to 
know  your  heart  was  already  anchored, 
or  I  should  never    have  introduced  you. 

So  Harry  refused  to  fall  in  love  with 
her,  did  he,  when  you  issued  your  or- 
ders ?  Well,  I'll  bet  you  a  horse  and 
buggy  he  will  fall  in  love  with  her 
before  he  is  a  month  older,  unless  he 
is  in  love  with  some  other  girl,  for 
Polly  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
girls  I  have   ever  seen. 

I  don't  know  Harry  very  well,  but 
my  impressions  are,  he  is  an  unusually 
nice     fellow.        If    he     is    only   half  as 


r              '           '                   -  ■  ' 

'■1 

■•  "    -                      .     ■         y/ 

104 

TUB   SILVER    QUEEN. 

manly  and  smart  as  he  looks,  I  shall 
put  in  the  good  word  for  him  with 
Polly. 

I  can  see  from  what  you  write,  she 
likes  him  alread}^ — and  likes  you  also, 
or  she  would  never  treat  you  both  with 
such  confidence.  But  tshe  will  lead 
Harry  a  dance  before  ever  he  captures 
her — you  bet  she  will — for  she  has  a 
touch  of  the  coquette  in  her  nature  in 
spite,  also,  of  the  warmest  and  most 
loyal   of  hearts. 

I  hope  he  will  fall  in  love  with 
her  ;  it  will  do  him  good,  even  if 
nothing  comes  of  it.  A  fellow  whose 
nature  is  nou  morbid,  is  never  any  the 
worse  off  for  loving  a  good  little  girl 
like  Polly,  even  if  she  do  not  recipro- 
cate. It  may  cost  him  some  pain,  but 
he  will  live  it  through,  and  no  man's 
nature  ever  expands  to  its  full  capacity 
till   the  fever  of   an  honest  passion  gets 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


105 


into  his  blood — but  you  know  liow  that 
is  yourself,  Cy. 

I  knew  about  her  jumping  the  mine 
before  your  letter  came — the  bare  fact 
only — for  I  have  met  Parsons  here 
every  day  and  he  showed  me  a  cipher 
dispatch  from  her  telling  him.  It  seems 
she  knew  his  old  cipher  and  used  it. 
He  translated  it  to  me  in  the  greatest 
admiration  of  her  pluck  and  quickness. 
Probably  she  never  would  have  done  it 
if  she  had  n't  had  you  two  fellows  to 
stand  by  her.  Bully  boys  !  I  know 
you  are  behaving  all  right,  or  she 
would  n't  trust  you. 

You  may  tell  Harry  all  I  have  told 
you  about  the  dreadful  straits  in  which 
her  family  have  been,  so  that  he  will 
perfectly  understand  how  she  came  to 
go  down  to  Creede.  I  would  n't  have 
him  think  cheaply  of  her  for  anything, 
for  I  have  got   it   all  fixed  in  my  mind 


Km 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


that  he  is  ^  fall  head  over  heels  in 
love  with  her.  I  do  not  believe  she  has 
had  a  serious  thought  of  any  other  fel- 
low, for,  though  as  a  young  Miss  she 
was  quite  a  favorite  in  Chicago,  it  is 
not  likely  she  formed  any  serious  at- 
tachments— any  attachment  that  would 
stand  the  strain  of  poverty  such  as  the 
Parsons  have  gone  through  in  the  last 
three  years.  Since  she  and  her  mother 
have  been  in  Denver,  I  know  they  have 
refused  to  make  acquaintances  and  have 
kept  proudly  to  themselves.  So  I  vent- 
ure to  guess  the  field  is  clear  for 
Harry  if  he  is  lucky  enough  to  inter- 
est her,  and  you  are  fairly  safe  in 
speaking  the  encouraging  word  to  him. 
As  I  have  said,  it  will  do  him  good  to 
get  the  fever  in  his  blood,  even  if  he 
should  fail. 

Like   her    father,  Polly   is   very  swift 
and  decisive  in   her    judgments   of  peo- 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


107 


pie,  and  very  self-reliant.  The  girl  has 
always  been  in  love  witb  her  father,  and 
Tom  has  always  treated  her  more  like  a 
lover  than  a  father.  He  is  awfully 
proud  of  her,  and  he  brags  about  her 
to  me  every  tiaie  we  meet.  But  he  is 
anxious,  nevertheless,  about  her  being 
that    camp,   and   he    is   leaving    to- 


rn 


night  to  join  her,  and  I  fancy  he  will 
bring  her  away.  You  may  know  how 
anxious  he  feels  in  spite  of  all  his  brag 
about  her  pluck  and  smartness  and  her 
ability  to  take  care  of  herself,  when  he 
abandons  the  irons  he  has  in  the  fire 
here,  to  go  out  and  look  after  her.  He 
admires  the  business  spirit  in  her  and 
upholds  it,  hut  still  he  is  afraid  thai 
fighting  her  own  way  in  such  a  rough 
place  will  make  her  coarse  and  un- 
lovely. 

Tell   Harry  to  put  his   beist  foot  for- 
ward  and    make    his  best  impression  on 


108 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


the  old  man,  if  you  find  him  caring 
seriously  for  Polly,  for  she  is  likely  to 
go  a  good  deal  according  to  her  father's 
fancy  in  the  matter  of  a  sweetheart.  If 
he  gets  the  old  man^s  heart,  the  battle 
for  Polly  is  more  than  half  won — that 
is,  if  she  already  likes  him  a  little  bit, 
which  I  am  pretty  sure  from  what  you 
write  she  does.  Of  course,  you  will 
manage  to  let  the  old  man  know  what 
a  respectful  admiration  both  you  and 
Harry  have  had  for  Polly,  and  how, 
being  vory  busy,  you  have  rather  left  it 
to  your  friend,  Mr.  English,  a  young 
gentleman  of  good  judgment  and  re- 
sponsible character  and  all  that,  to 
keep  an  eye  on  her  interests  and  make 
himself  serviceable  in  case  she  needed 
counsel,  etc.,  etc. 

But  above  all,  make  him  think — both 
you  and  Harry — that  his  girl  has  n't 
really  needed  the  protection  of  either  of 


■■•:<; 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


109 


you,  but  has  pa  ed  her  own  canoe 
like  a  veteran.  That  will  please  him 
more  than  anything  else,  and  it  would 
irritate  his  pride  a  little  to  think  you 
had  been  necessary  to  her. 

You  will  get  this  probably  before  he 
arrives,  for  he  will  stop  naif  a  day  in 
Denver  to  see  his  wife  and  boy  ;  so  be 
on  your  good  behavior,  both  of  you, 
and  don't  shock  him. 

"What  you  tell  me  about  that  poor 
girl  from  Denver — Inez,  is  that  her 
name  ? — is  distressing.  Her  first  bleach- 
ing her  hair  and  then  cutting  it  off, 
shows  plainly  enough  the  course  her 
young  footsteps  are  taking.  That 
sharp -faced,  wiry  little  blonde  she 
chums  with  has  no  doubt  led  her  into 
evil  ways.  There  is  no  company  so 
dangeroub  for  a  girl  as  a  bad  woman. 
Could  n't  you  take  her  aside  and  give 
her   a  talking  to,  and   advise  her  to  go 


110 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


home  to  her  family  ?  Take  her  up  to 
one  of  the  dance- halls  some  night,  and 
show  her  the  beer-soaked,  painted  hags 
that  haunt  these  places  to  pick  up  the 
means  of  a  wretched  and  precarious  ex- 
istence, and  let  her  know  that  is  where 
she  will  bring  up,  if  she  keeps  on. 
But  I  suppose  she  is  past  talking  to — 
past  turning  back. 

Write  me  the  latest  news  about 
Polly's  mine  and  how  it  is  turning  out, 
and  how  Harry  and  Polly  are  making 
it.     I  am  deeply   interested. 

Yours, 

Fitz-Mao. 

XII. 


Creede,  Colo.,  May  9,  1892. 

Dear  Fitz  : — I  have  to  tell  you  a 
sad   stoiy  now. 

Last  Saturday  I  went  to  Denver,  and 
as  I  entered    the    train    at  this  place,  I 


THE   SILVKU    QIKKS. 


ill 


notict'd  some  nu'U  l>rini;In!;  an  invalid 
into  the  car.  One  of  the  men  anked 
the  porter  to  look  after  the  sick  girl 
in  *'  lower  two,"  and  I  gathered  from 
that  tliat  she  was  alone.  I  had  section 
three,  and  as  soon  as  the  train  pulled 
out  I  noticed  that  the  sick  person  grew 
restless.  We  had  been  out  less  than 
thirty  minutes  when  she  began  to  roll 
and  toss  about,  and  talk  as  people  do 
when  sick  with  mountain  fever. 

When  the  Durango  car,  which  was  a 
buffet,  was  switched  to  our  train  at 
Alamosa,  I  went  to  the  sick  berth  and 
asked  the  sufferer  if  she  would  like  a 
cup  of  tea  and  some  toast.  She  was 
very  ill,  but  she  seemed  glad  to  have 
some  one  talk  to  her,  and  as  she  an- 
swered *'yes,"  almost  in  a  whisper,  she 
turned  her  poor,  tired,  tearful  eyes  to 
me,  and  with  a  little  show  of  excite- 
ment that   started  her    coughing,  spoke 


112 


THE   SILVEIt    QUEEN. 


ray  name.  It  wa8  Inez  Boyd.  I  should 
not  have  known  her,  but  I  had  seen  her 
after  she  had  bleached  her  beautiful 
hair,  and  later  when  she  was  in  the 
barber- shop.  As  the  gold  of  sunset, 
that  marked  the  end  of  a  beautiful 
spring  day,  shone  in  through  the  car 
window,  it  fell  upon  her 
pale  face,  where  a  faint 
flush  on  her  thin  cheeks 
spoke  of  the  fever  within, 
and  showed  that  the  end  of 
''*''^**^^/    a  life  was  near. 

She  took  a  swallov  or  two  of  the 
tea,  looked  at  the  toast  and  pushed  it 
away.  She  had  been  ill  for  a  week, 
she  said,  and  had  eaten  nothing  for 
two  days.  I  did  w^hat  little  I  could 
for  her  comfort,  and  when  I  went  to 
say  good-night,  she  held  my  hand  ;  the 
tears,   one  after  another,  came  from   the 


1 


?'  ; 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


iia 


deep,  dark  eyes,  fell  across  the  palo 
cheeks,  and  were  lost  in  the  ghastly 
yellow   hair. 

"Don't  think  I  weep  because  I  am 
afraid  of  death,''  she  said.  "  I  am  so 
glad  now,  that  I  know  that  it's  all 
over,  but  I  am  sorry  for  mannna  ;  it  will 
kill  her." 

I  asked,  and  she  gave  me  her  ad- 
dress in  Denver,  and  I  promised  to 
call. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  *he  gate 
of  the  beautiful  city,  she  had  called 
her  home,  some  men  came  with  an  in- 
valid chair,  and  when  I  saw  them  take 
her  to  a  carriage  I  hurried  on  to  my 
hotel. 

That  afternoon  I  called  to  ask  after 
the  girl.  The  windows  were  open,  and 
I  could  see  a  few  people  standing 
about  the  room  with  bowed  heads. 
Dr.     O'Connor    came    down    the     little 


\ 


114 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


walk  that  lay  from  the  door  of  a  neat 
cottage  to  tlie  street,  and  without  rec- 
ognizing nie,  closed  the  gate  softly, 
turned  his  back  to  me  and  hurried 
away. 

Inez  Boyd  was  dead.  God  in  His 
mercy,  had  called  her  away  to  save  her 
from  a  life  of  sorrow,  sin  and  shame, 
and  He  called  her  just  in  time. 

In  the  "Two  Voices,"  Tennyson 
says  : 

"Whatever  crazy  sorrow  saith. 
No   life  that  breathes   with  human  breath 
Has  ever  truly  loDged  for  death." 

I  don't  believe  it.  There  are  times 
in  life — in  some  lives,  at  least — when 
nothing  is  more  desirable  than  death. 

xm. 

Creede,  Colo.,  May  13,  18'^2. 
My  Dear   Fitz  : — You    ask   me   how 
the     Chronicle    is    doing.      It    is    doing 


■1  i 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


115 


better  than  the  editor.  I  have  been 
reducing  expenses  on  every  hand,  liut 
since  the  state  land  sale,  the  boom  has 
collapsed,  so  tliat  from  one  hundred 
dollars  a  week,  we  have  got  up  to 
where  we  loto  tLree  hundred  a  we<'k, 
with  a  good  prospect  for  an  increase. 
The  responsibility  has  grown  so  great, 
that  I  begin  to  feel  like  a  Kansas 
farm,  struggling  to  bear  up  under  a 
second  mortgage. 

I  have  been  elected  assistant  superin- 
tendent of  the  Sunday-school,  umpired 
a  prize-fight,  been  time-keeper  at  a  ball 
game,  have  been  elected  to  the  common 
council  from  the  Bad  Lands  by  an 
overwhelming  vote,  but  I  have  received 
no  salary  as  editor  of  the  Chronicle. 
Tabor  has  written  another  note,  and 
perpetrated  some  more   poetry : 


«* 


Among  these  rose-bejeweled  hills 
Where  bloom  the  fairest  flowers 


IU\ 


THE   SILVER    QUKEN. 


Where  the  echo  from  the  minet  and  mlUi 
This  little  vale  with  music  fills, 
We  spent  litVs  gladdest  hours. 

"And  still  within  this  limpid  stream 
Where  sports  the  speckled  trout, 
Her  mirrored  face  doth  glow  and  gleam ; 
*Twa8  here  I  grappled    love's  young  dream— 
And  here  my  light  went  out." 

Is  n't  that  enough  to  drive  a  young 
woman  to  cigarettea  ?  Some  girls  it 
might,  but  it  will  never  disturb  Polly 
Parsons. 

If  I  did  not  know  Harry  as  I  do, 
I  should  say  he  was  learning  to  love 
Miss  Parsons  very  rapidly,  now 
that  she  is  rich,  but  I  will  not 
do  him  that  injustice.  He  has 
loved  her  all  along,  but  the 
prospect  of  losing  her  is  what 
makes  him  restless  now.  Men 
who  have  lived  as  long  as  you  and  I 
have,  know  how  hard  it  is  to   ride  by 


THE   aiLVEH    (JVKKN. 


117 


the  side  of  a  beautiful  woman  over 
these  grand  niountainH  on  a  May  morn- 
ing, without  making  love  to  her  ; 

When  the  reitleas  liaud  of  Nature 

Reaches  out  to  shift  the  scene. 
And  the  brooks  begin  to  warble  in  the  dell; 
When  the  waking  fields  are  fluffy 

And  the  meadow-lands  are  green, 
And  the  tassels  on  the  trees  begin  to  swell. 

Ah,  these  are  times  that  try  men's 
hearts  ;  but  poor  Harry,  he  is  so  timid ; 
why  I  should  have  called  her  down  a 
month  ago,  if   I  had  his  hand. 

She  is  too  honest  to  encourage  him 
if  she  does  n't  really  care  for  him,  but 
she  must,  she  can't  help  it,  he  is  almost 
an  ideal  young  man.  Maybe  that  is 
where  he  falls  down  ;  I've  heard  it 
said  that  a  man  who  is  too  nice,  is 
never  popular  with  the  ladies.  Per- 
haps that   is   why  you   and  I  are   pour- 


118 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


ing  our  own  coffee  to-day.     Swinburne 
says — 

"  There  is  a  bitterness  in  things  too  sweet." 

Polly's  father  is  here.  He  brought  a 
Chicago  capitalist  with  him,  and  the 
Sure  Thing  has  been  sold  for  sixty-one 
thousand  dollars.  I  was  sorry  to  learn 
of  tlie  sale,  for  it  will  take  away  from 
the  camp  one  of  the  richest  and  rar- 
est flowers  that  has  ever  adorned  these 
hills. 

Since  the  great  fire,  we  have  all 
moved  to  the  Tortoni,  on  the  border 
of  the  Bad  Lands.  The  parlor  is  very 
small,  and  last  night  when  Harry  and 
the  "Silver  Queen,"  as  we  call  her 
now,  were  talking  while  I  pretended  to 
be  reading  a  newspaper,  I  could  not 
help  hearing  some  of  the  things  they 
said.  Harry  wanted  her  photograph, 
but   she   would   not   give   it.      She   said 


THE    SILVER    QVEEN. 


119 


she  never  gave  her  pictures  to  young 
men,  under  any  circumstances.  When 
she  found  a  young  man  witli  whom 
she  could  trust  lier  photo,  she  said  she 
would  give  him  the  original.  Harry 
said   something   very   softly  then  ;  1  did 


not    hear    what    It    was,    hut   she    said 
very    plainly,   very    seriously,   that    slw^ 
would   let  him  know  before   she  left. 
"  And  you  go  to-morrow  ? "  he  asked, 


i%  ^ 


120 


THE    SILVER    QUEEN. 


and  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  were 
tears  in  his  voice. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh  that 
hinted  that  she  was  not  altogether  glad 
to  go.  "  Papa  has  bought  the  old  place 
back  again  ;  w^e  shall  stop  in  Denver  for 
mamma  and  my  little  brotlier,  and  then 
return  to  tlie  dear  old  home  where  I 
have  spent  so  many  happy  days — where 
I  learned  to  lisp  the  prayers  that  I  have 
never  forgotten  to  say  in  this  wicked 
camp  ;  and  I  feel  now  that  God  has 
heard  and  answered  me.  It  may  seem 
almost  wicked,  but  I  am  half  sorry  to 
leave  this  place  ;  you  have  all  been  so 
kind  to  me ;  but  it  is  best.  Father 
will  give  you  our  address,  and  now, 
how  soon  may  we  expect  you  in  Chi- 
cago ? " 

"  How  soon  may  I  come  ? — next  week 
— next  year  ? " 

"Not    next    year,"  she   said   qui 'kly  ; 


f'! 


THE   SILVER    QUEEN. 


121 


and  although  I  was  looking  at  ray 
paper,  I  saw  him  raise  her  hand  to  his 
lips. 

"And  will  you  give  me  your  photo 
then  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  and  I  wanted 
to  jump  and  yell,  hut  I  was  afraid  she 
might  change  her  mind. 

"I  wish  you  would  sing  one  scng  for 
me  before  you  go,"  said  Harry,  after 
they  had  been  silent  for  some  moments. 

"  What  shall   it  be  ? " 

"When  other  lips,"  he   answered. 

"  But  there  should  be  no  other  lips," 
said  the  bright  and  charming  woman. 

"I  know  there  should  not,  and  I 
hope  there  may  not,  but  sing  it  any- 
way and  I  will  try  to  be  strong  and 
unafraid." 

As  Miss  Parsons  went  to  the  piano, 
I  left  the  room,  left  them  alone,  and 
as  I     went    out     into     the     twilight,    I 


I'i2 


THK    SILVKIi    QUKKN. 


heard     the    gentle   notes     tis     the    light 
fingers  wandered  over  the   keys. 

*'  When  other  lips  and  other  hearts—" 
Came  drifting  through  the  trees. 
**In  language  whose  excess  imparts,'^ 
Was  borne  upon    tiie  breeze. 
Ah,  hope  is  sweet  and  love  is  strong 

And  life's  a  summer  sea; 
A  woman's  soul  is  in  her  song ; 
"  And  you'll  remember  me." 

Still  rippling  from  her  throbbing  throat 

With  joy  akin  lo  pain, 
There  seemed  a  tear  in  every  note, 

A  sob  in  every  strain. 
Soft  as  the  twilight  shadows  creep 

Across  the  listless  lea, 
The  singer  sang  her  love  to  sleep 

With,  "You'll  remember  me." 

Truly  yours, 

Cy  Waeman.  • 


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fi" 


